The Wolf Queen Awakens
by Ms Katonic
Summary: Dragons may signify the world's end but as far as Elisif's concerned, her world ended well before that when Ulfric Stormcloak murdered her husband. So it is that no one's more surprised than her when a dragon attack on Solitude reveals that there's more to the High Queen in waiting than anyone
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So anyway I wrote another fic. It's been in the works for months, but now N&J is done, the time's right to out myself as the author of this one. It's from a SKM prompt, and it's Yet Another NPC Dragonborn fic. Elisif this time, because several anons on the meme squealed over the idea. And as I love Elisif to bits, she's getting her own fic. So here it is.

Summary: Dragons may signify the world's end but as far as Elisif's concerned, her world ended well before that when Ulfric Stormcloak murdered her husband. So it is that no one's more surprised than her when a dragon attack on Solitude reveals that there's more to the High Queen in waiting than anyone suspected.

* * *

"It's dead then?" Falk Firebeard asked the guard bringing news of the latest dragon attack on Solitude. It was the third this week, and even with Castle Dour's soldiers in the city, they were suffering. Elisif didn't even want to think about how the rest of Skyrim was doing. Badly, she suspected. A whole month since the Helgen attack, and the dragons were everywhere, it seemed. The attacks had started in the east, but since then, they'd spread. Nords were tough, Nords were brave, Nords were fighters. But what could even Nords do against foes that seemed to rise again days after they died?

Elisif didn't know, but she hated feeling so helpless. She was supposed to be queen in waiting, she was meant to be a Jarl! And yet her guards were barely holding it together, the Legion was stretched because of the war and Tullius kept brushing off her concerns. Elisif had a definite feeling she was being given the run-around, but she didn't know how to confront Tullius directly. Wasn't there anything she could do? There had to be something.

"Where's the body?" Elisif asked, interrupting the conversation, and that was another thing, the surprised and slightly annoyed look on Falk's face whenever she ventured an opinion. He was her steward, he was meant to answer to her! And yet somehow she always ended up giving in to him because he was older and experienced and had served as steward to both Torygg and his father.

"Out in the market, my Jarl," said Falk, gritting his teeth a little. "For now, anyway."

"I want to see it," said Elisif, feeling a little reckless, more so than usual. Ever since the dragons had come back, she'd felt restless. Penned in. Feeling like she was meant to be doing something, she didn't know what. And the dreams, always the dreams, dreams of flying, soaring through the air with the whole of Skyrim below her. She liked those dreams.

She was less keen on the dreams of blood and death and fire and screaming, especially the ones where she was not an innocent bystander on the ground, but descending from the sky causing it.

"My Jarl," Falk began, "you don't need to see the body for yourself, they all look much the same."

"I agree," Sybille put in, "I've already thoroughly examined the body of two previous kills, you're not going to notice anything I missed."

Elisif could really slap her court mage sometimes.

"I. Want. To. See it," Elisif snapped, her voice coming out in a ferocious low growl that surprised even her. Falk flinched back, Sybille looked a little nervous, and even Erikur had reacted. Good. She'd have to raise her voice more often if that was the result. "In fact, I'm going to see it. I am Jarl and I can go where I like in my own city."

Without waiting for an answer, she got up and strode off, making for the door.

"Oh for Divines' sake," she heard Falk cry before snapping at Bolgeir to get after her. Elisif allowed herself a small smile. She'd won this victory at least. Falk might be used to getting his own way, but he couldn't actually override her.

She made her way out of the palace, down the Avenue and past the Hall of the Dead, before passing under the bridge and into the market place. The dead dragon was lying up ahead, taking up virtually all the space. They were a lot bigger close up. Elisif had seen them from her window in the Blue Palace, but they'd moved too fast for her to get a good look at. She wasn't sure now that was such a bad thing. Even dead it looked frightening, with its tough scales and teeth the size of her arm and wickedly sharp claws and spines. There was quite a crowd standing around it, guards, citizens, soldiers, children. The muted chatter fell quiet as they all saw their Jarl approach.

"It's dead then," Elisif said to Captain Aldis, who was standing over it, wiping his forehead from exhaustion.

"Quite dead, ma'am," said Aldis wearily. "Up until it comes back to life in the night."

"Aldis," Elisif snapped. "I said not to say that around citizens."

"Not talking about a thing doesn't make it not true, my Jarl," said Aldis, but he did drop the subject. Elisif knew it wouldn't solve anything, but it was important to at least sound like they knew what they were doing. Maybe dismembering the body would help, although how any weapon, even ebony, was meant to hack a dragon to bits, Elisif had no idea. Then it happened. The dragon started to smoke, burning from within, scales and flesh crackling as the body fell apart in fire.

"What's happening," Elisif gasped. "What's it doing?"

"I – I don't know, I've never seen one do this before," said Aldis, confused. "Everyone get back! Don't touch it!"

Elisif found herself hauled back as Bolgeir had finally caught up and pushed between her and the dragon, keeping her from the fire. He couldn't keep her from what happened next though. White light boiled up from the dragon's corpse, spiralling up into a vortex, the wind rushing around, whipping up Elisif's hair, but she couldn't take her eyes off it. She barely heard the screaming as townsfolk ran for cover, and then the light grew brighter, filling her entire field of vision and Elisif closed her eyes, feeling light and heat envelop her. Roaring, shrieking like an outraged dragon, and then something very like a dragon's jaws rose up inside her mind, snapping shut on what had just sunk into her brain.

A memory trickled through Elisif's mind, a memory of happier days with Torygg, of picnicking out by Kilkreath and the old Nord memorial stone there. Torygg hadn't even seemed to notice anything odd about it, just a curved wall carved in the old tongue that no one could read these days, but she'd heard it singing to her, a strange chanting that had drawn her in and she could hear it again now, same chanting, and she remembered the glowing word on the wall, written in another language but she could read it, she knew what it meant and the word was _Su_. Air. She'd not known what to make of it at the time, but the chanting had subsided and she'd let her laughing husband pull her back to his arms and put it out of her mind. Now she couldn't forget it, and she felt the new power from the dragon pulsing through her and then into the word, if that made any sense but nothing about this did. The word had come alive in her head, and she knew instinctively that if she shouted it with weapons in her hands... she'd be unstoppable.

She opened her eyes and saw everyone staring at her, literally every single person there, from Captain Aldis to that Argonian to the innkeeper's son to a small group of children. Bolgeir was staring at her, amazed, and then she felt Falk's hand on her shoulder.

"Elisif, what happened, are you all right?"

"It's Jarl Elisif to you!" she snapped, immediately regretting it as she saw the hurt on his face, quickly covered up by his usual professional mask.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry, I..." She looked around at the entire city looking at her as if she'd grown an extra head.

"I need to go," Elisif whispered, and then she was running, fleeing for the Blue Palace and home.

* * *

Elisif sprinted up the steps, darting past servants and guards and ignoring Erikur calling to her if she'd sorted out that dragon. She'd sort him out if he didn't shut up, shouting Su and carving him into – oh gods. She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. She didn't know what had happened, but she was scared and terrified and there was this new power in her now, this thing that wouldn't go away and really really wanted to fight, fight them all until they were all on their knees, all calling her Lady Queen and... oh gods, what was wrong with her?

She reached into a cupboard and grabbed a goblet and a bottle of Colovian brandy swiped from Elenwen's last party. Her hand shook as she poured herself a measure... and another... and then she gave up on the glass and just swigged a mouthful straight from the bottle. The taste burned her throat, but she didn't care. She collapsed on the bed, vaguely aware of Falk hammering on the door and shouting her name.

"Elisif! _Elisif! _Open the door!"

Elisif ignored him. The brandy was making her feel reckless, a warm shield that normally made her feel at ease with the world, but now made her feel just that bit more predatory. This was her palace, her _strunmah_ (what in Oblivion was a strunmah?), the red joor could wait until she was ready (joor?).

"Leave me alone!" she snapped.

"Not until we've talked!" Falk shouted. "Elisif, what happened? What did that dragon do to you?"

_Better ask what I did to that dragon, _and that was another thing she resented, the implication that it was always other people doing things to her, not her doing things to other people.

"Nothing!" Elisif cried. "It didn't do anything, it was dead. I don't know what happened!"

"Elisif," Falk called from behind the door, sounding worried. "My Jarl, people are talking. They're saying you took its soul, that you're..."

"_DOVAHKIIN!_" The room shook as the great Shout rolled across the sky, causing the room to shake and Elisif to sober up very very quickly. What in the name of Kyne... was that the Greybeards?!

"Falk," Elisif called, feeling her heart start to pound. "Falk, I'm not... I'm not Dragonborn. Am I?"

Silence. Not a sound, and that was worse than if he'd said yes, because it meant yes, didn't it? She'd taken that damn dragon's soul.

"Oh gods," Elisif whispered, and she finally lost all semblance of control. Rolling over, she began to cry. Falk clearly took that as an invitation to come in, because he was opening the door, closing it behind him and then sitting on the bed next to her, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. Elisif didn't even care any more. She just turned over and rested her head in his lap, like she used to do with her father as a girl. Falk stroked her hair, saying nothing.

"I can't be Dragonborn, Falk, I just can't," she whispered, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "I'm not a mighty warrior or anything, I'm just a foolish young girl who doesn't know what she's doing half the time."

"No, you're a very brave young woman who's come through a lot and is stronger than she knows, than any of us knew," said Falk gently. "It's all right, Elisif, no one's going to ask you to fight a dragon on your own. But you just stopped one coming back. That's special. That just saved your city."

Third dragon attack that week – but not the third dragon and Elisif knew it. Well, it wouldn't be coming back. Others might though, especially if they knew the Dragonborn was here, and thanks to the Greybeards, everyone now knew there was a Dragonborn.

"I'm going to have to go to High Hrothgar, aren't I?" Elisif whispered. "What do you think they want?"

"I don't know, but don't be afraid," Falk said, squeezing her shoulder. "I think they just want to meet you, make sure you're not going to use your powers for ill. And then I think they're going to train you in how to Shout."

How to Shout. She'd seen Shouting before, when Ulfric had come and challenged Torygg and... He'd Shouted then, misused everything the Greybeards had taught him, and then the sword had come plunging down on her helpless husband as Falk and Bolgeir had held her back while she'd screamed. Ulfric had stood back, looking satisfied after butchering a man less than half his age, and he'd glanced at her, shrugged and just said that the price for freedom was a high one. A high one! He'd not been the one paying it. She'd lunged at him, but not been able to break free and a good thing too or she'd have been joining Torygg in Sovngarde. She almost wished she had.

Shouting. The power of the Thu'um. It was said to take years to learn even a single word of it. Years, and yet she'd learnt a word off a wall ages ago and just unlocked it in seconds today without even knowing she was doing it. In five minutes she'd learnt a third of what Ulfric knew, and he'd been at High Hrothgar for years.

"I could learn to Shout," she said, the fear subsiding. "Like... like Ulfric."

"Hopefully not like him!" Falk said firmly. "But yes, that's the general idea. You take the souls of dead dragons and use them to Shout with."

Like Ulfric. No, _better_ than Ulfric. Elisif knew then what she had to do.

Falk was still talking, staring off into space.

"Don't worry, Elisif, we can take care of the dragon-killing for you," he was saying. "I'll talk to General Tullius, get him to spare the men to go dragon-hunting. They can kill the beasts then you can walk in and take the souls."

"No." Elisif sat up, not even sure where this determination was coming from, but if she didn't stand up for herself over this, she'd be a slave for life, she just knew it.

"What do you mean, no? You can't possibly mean to start fighting dragons by yourself!"

"I mean to do exactly that!" Elisif snapped. "No dragon relies on others to kill her foes for her!"

"Elisif, you're not a -" Falk began, now completely confused, but the look on Elisif's face stopped him.

"I'm going to need my armour, the good set," said Elisif, mentally cataloguing the contents of her armoury. "And that ebony war axe with the fire enchantment on it. Get me a sword too, ebony or glass if possible. Suppose I should take a bow and arrows too – decent set of those please, and a big batch of low-end arrows – I never was any good at archery, I imagine I'll miss a lot. Also some healing and stamina potions and some fire resistance potions, and I want five hundred septims from the treasury. And another five hundred set by in case that runs out. And some food as well. And tell Sybille I want to see her before I go."

"Go?" said Falk, looking a bit frantic. "Go where? High Hrothgar?"

"Initially, yes, but after that, who knows?" said Elisif, shrugging. "Depends what the Greybeards tell me."

"You – you're not coming back?" Falk breathed, going pale. "But Elisif, Solitude needs you!"

"Skyrim needs me!" Elisif sighed. "There's dragons attacking everywhere and it seems I'm the only one that can stop them. You don't need me here, Falk, you can keep this city going quite well without me for a bit."

"Elisif, you can't just go travelling off round Skyrim!" Falk protested. "It's dangerous! Quite apart from the dragons, we're at war! If the Stormcloaks got their hands on you...!"

Elisif's eyes narrowed as she contemplated the thought of laying eyes on Ulfric again.

"If Ulfric finds me, he will find he has taken on more than he bargained for," she said, amazed at just how calmly she was considering the possibility of smashing Ulfric's skull open with an axe. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a country to save... and a husband to avenge."


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Elisif sets off for High Hrothgar, leaving her true identity and the responsibilities of Jarldom behind her. The responsibilities of Dragonborn don't rest any easier though, so it's a good thing she finds some allies...

A/N: YAY, people are reading! I'm so pleased. Here is the next chapter - a bit longer, this one. Elisif's not a brilliant fighter on her own, so I felt it a good idea to get her some help.

* * *

In the end, things had gone fairly smoothly – everyone was agreed she had to follow the Greybeards' call. So off to High Hrothgar it was. She'd kitted herself out with a full set of finely crafted scaled armour – not terribly substantial, but she could barely move in steel plate. It would do. She'd also got potions, an axe and sword, Elven bow, a few glass arrows and lots of steel ones, some food for the road, and a full coin purse. She'd also talked Sybille into teaching her some basic spells – nothing fancy, just healing, the three basic Destruction spells, how to cast mage armour, how to conjure a familiar, and spells for clairvoyance and candlelight. She'd never be a wizard but it wouldn't hurt to know a few spells.

About the only stumbling block had been her insisting on going alone. Falk had put his foot down and insisted she take guards, she'd shouted back that the whole point of this was to get to know her country and discover what she could really do, and she wasn't depriving Solitude of its protectors. Falk had asked what about her protection and Elisif had just shrugged.

"I'm Dragonborn. I don't need it like you do."

"At least take Bolgeir," Falk sighed.

"And won't you need a guard?" Elisif had asked.

In the end, they'd compromised. Which meant Elisif set out on her journey accompanied by a troop of Haafingar guards escorting her as far as Dragon Bridge, and then the rest of the way by one of the housecarls in training, Jordis the Sword Maiden. Falk had seen her off at Solitude gates, giving her a hug and telling her to take care, and she'd hugged him back and told him to look after her city. Then she'd left, feeling a lump in her throat as she'd walked away. Dragon Bridge had arrived all too soon, and she'd stared at the bridge, knowing once she crossed it that would be it. She'd have left Haafingar and she wouldn't be Jarl any more, just one warrior and a not terribly experienced one at that.

Elisif took a deep breath, whispered a prayer to Mara, and started walking.

Once over, it was amazing how the fear just seemed to slide from her, like a weight had just lifted from her shoulders. Elisif walked on and kept walking, and then started running, running and squealing like a little girl until she got tired and had to stop. She was free! She could do whatever she wanted! Go wherever she wanted! She didn't have to worry about being Jarl or Queen or about Ulfric or the war or anything. She was just Elisif, on her own, ready to start exploring.

Well. Not quite on her own.

"My Jarl!" Jordis gasped, running after Elisif in her steel armour, slowed down a little but Jordis' stamina far outstripped Elisif's. "Wait for me!"

"Sorry," Elisif said, waiting for Jordis to catch up. "I got... carried away."

To her surprise, Jordis actually giggled, and Elisif realised that for all the woman's strength and prowess, she was no older than Elisif herself, not by much anyway.

"Oh that's all right, Jarl," Jordis laughed. "It's exciting, isn't it? I've never been up to High Hrothgar before. I wonder what it's like?"

"Cold, I imagine," said Elisif, looking towards the Throat of the World, its peak just visible in the distance. "Listen, Jordis, now we're away from Solitude, you need to stop calling me your Jarl. I don't want people knowing who I am. It'd get the wrong kind of attention."

"Of course, my Ja- sorry," said Jordis sheepishly. "Er. What do I call you then? I don't think I can call you Elisif."

No, and the name wasn't common enough that people wouldn't automatically associate it with the High Queen to be, especially a young High Queen who was Dragonborn apparently. Wouldn't take long for a rumour like that to spread.

"Don't call me anything," Elisif said, racking her brains for a suitable alias. "Or just call me ma'am. Just not anything likely to give me away. The whole point of travelling quietly is so no one knows it's me. They'll treat me differently if they know, and how can I ever learn to be a good queen if I don't know what Skyrim's like for people who aren't Jarls?"

"Dangerous," said Jordis quietly, hand resting on her sword hilt. "But I'll protect you with my life, my Jarl."

Elisif thought of Jordis lying dead because of her and shivered. Not if she could help it. No one was dying because of her. She was here to help save Skyrim, not get people killed. Hand on her own weapons, she led on.

* * *

The journey wasn't too challenging at first. A few beasts, and although Elisif reacted to the first wolf pack by shrieking and dropping her sword while Jordis dealt with them, she did better with the second, and when they ran into bandits at Robber's Gorge, actually wounded one before sprinting away in terror.

"That does it, I am getting Falk to send soldiers down here!" Elisif seethed once away from the place.

"You can't," said Jordis, still cleaning the blood off her own sword. "You're not in Haafingar, that's part of Hjaalmarch. Jarl Idgrod would complain."

"Idgrod's not got the troops, I have," said Elisif stubbornly, although she was only dimly aware of how many guards she had at her personal disposal as opposed to Legionnaires and Penitus Oculatus. It bothered her a little that she didn't know – she was Jarl, she should know this, right?

"Yes, my Jarl," said Jordis simply, knowing when not to argue. Elisif just sighed and walked on. Why couldn't it be as easy as just sending some soldiers in? She was Jarl and Dragonborn and soon to be queen, she must be able to do something about a few ill-disciplined bandits. And yet damned if she could think of anything.

They kept on, stopping for lunch in Rorikstead, where a little girl called Sissel stopped by and told Elisif all about a dream she'd had about a friendly old dragon on top of a mountain. Elisif listened and gasped in all the right places and gave the girl a septim. Sissel had gasped and hidden it, thanking her in a soft whisper and running away. Elisif had felt her heart break watching the girl run off. She loved children, desperately wanted some of her own... but Torygg was dead and she couldn't face taking another man into her bed, she just couldn't. It hadn't even been five months.

All the same... babies. Maybe one day. Maybe she could keep it together just long enough to get it over with and get pregnant. Perhaps.

Aside from a few wolves, the journey passed uneventfully, and Whiterun loomed up ahead. Elisif debated calling in at Dragonsreach and asking Balgruuf for a room, before remembering she was meant to be all self-sufficient and experiencing Skyrim like an ordinary citizen. So the inn it was then. Elisif was just about ready for a meal and some mead.

Right up until she got to the city outskirts and saw the dragon attacking, swooping low over the outer farms, burning roofs and crop fields, and while Elisif was no farmer, she knew enough to know that was someone's livelihood and home, and potentially a good chunk of the city's food supply, going up in smoke.

"Oh no you don't!" Elisif hissed, reaching for her bow. Finally, something helpful she could do.

Unfortunately, shooting a dragon in flight was tough even for a master at archery and Elisif wasn't even close to being that. Fortunately, Jordis was up to the job and it seemed Elisif wasn't the only one fighting. There were Whiterun guards present, and four other warriors, a woman with red hair and rather revealing armour who was managing to hit the dragon almost every time, two men in odd armour with wolf heads on it, who were certainly brothers if not twins, and a young woman about Elisif's age who seemed to be an Imperial. All were taking shots at the dragon, a few arrows even hitting it, and finally it was injured enough to land... right next to Elisif.

For a brief moment everything seemed to go still around her as she stared into the beast's eyes, its teeth _right there_ and capable of tearing her apart and oh gods, it was alive and huge and could breathe fire and...

"SU!" she Shouted, grabbing her weapons and flinging herself into battle. She wasn't the most skilled warrior out there, but she'd had lessons, she wasn't a complete novice and it was amazing how training just kicked in as she darted away from the thing's mouth, ebony axe and glass sword carving into the beast's skin with frightening speed. Glorious, it was glorious, fighting and slashing and stabbing and she should have done this years ago! And then the beast's head swung round and fire spewed from its mouth.

"My Jarl!" Jordis knocked her to the ground, covering her as the flames roared over them both. Elisif shrank back from the heat, seeing one of the twins, the shorter of the two, leaping over her, greatsword in hand, swinging it into the dragon as he screamed that he'd rip its heart out. Meanwhile, the young Imperial was there, pulling Jordis to her feet and then Elisif while the wolf brothers distracted the thing.

"Are you alright?" the woman asked. Elisif nodded, heart pounding.

"I never fought one before!" she whispered. Jordis had already grabbed her sword and rushed back into the fray.

"Well, you were doing really well!" the Imperial laughed, lifting her own sword. "Come on, let's give the others a hand before it takes off again. FOR JORRVASKR!"

Jorrvaskr? Well, that explained a lot. Elisif had certainly heard of the Companions, but never been inside their hall. Maybe she'd have to visit. Assuming the dragon didn't kill her first.

She start attacking again, at the back this time, not as fast as she'd been with the Thu'um powering her strikes, but fast enough. The dragon's blood spurted as she hit it, and Elisif grimaced but didn't stop because if she did, it might turn round and breathe fire and she hated fire, feared it more than anything, feared it more than a dragon's claws and teeth.

Wolf twin number one shoved a greatsword through the roof of its mouth while twin number two managed to shove his blade into the beast's shoulder and it finally died. Elisif stepped back, feeling her knees going weak as she lowered her weapons, then sank to the ground before she fainted entirely. She'd killed a dragon. Helped kill a dragon. Got in a few hits and not died, which was something, right?

"Is she alright?" That was the redhead archer.

"I think so." The Imperial. "That armour looks brand new, I don't think she's terribly experienced."

"Good armour though." Wolf twin one, the bigger one. "Weapons not bad either. Think she smithed them herself?"

"Hardly," wolf twin two sneered, lip curling. "Look at her, she's some noble-born brat who's barely swung a sword before in her life. Papa's money probably paid for all that."

Just because it was true didn't mean it didn't hurt. Elisif winced, slowly getting up so she could at least face the man on his level.

"Vilkas!" the Imperial cried. "Leave her alone, she was good at it! You should have seen her when it first landed, she didn't bat an eyelid, she just tore into it!"

"Instinct," said Elisif, brushing herself down and doing her best to sound composed. _Remember, you are a Jarl and they're... bigger and stronger and better with weapons, but you're still their queen and don't you forget it!_

"Well, you've got good instincts," said the young Imperial, impressed. "My name's Ria, what's yours?"

Elisif opened her mouth to reply then realised she'd not thought of an alias yet. Fortunately, Jordis saved her the trouble as she raced over to her, horrified.

"My Ja-" she began, until Elisif swatted her on the side.

"Maia?" Ria asked, smiling. "That's a pretty name! It suits you."

Elisif promptly forgave her housecarl everything, turning her brightest smile on Ria.

"That's right! I'm Maia. I grew up in Wayrest, but came to live in Solitude a few years ago. Now I'm exploring the rest of Skyrim. Getting to know the old country, you know?"

It wasn't even a lie. Might as well keep her story as close to the truth as possible, right?

"You've not picked the best time to do that," the redhaired Nord remarked. "First the war, now the dragons – wait, I've never seen one do that before."

Too late, Elisif remembered she was Dragonborn now. The dragon crackled and burned beside her and the soul boiled up around her, blinding her and filling her eyes and ears until she knew nothing else, and then _snap._ The jaws in her head swallowed it whole, taking its power and tucking it away, waiting for her to find another of those Word Walls.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, wincing as four Companions stared at her in disbelief.

"What was that?" wolf twin one asked, blinking. "It's like you just sucked the life out of it."

"Sucked the soul out of it," the woman said, staring right at her as if she knew exactly what Elisif was.

"You're Dragonborn," Vilkas breathed, and finally he actually looked impressed.

"Dragonborn?" Ria asked, confused. "What's a Dragonborn?"

"A mortal with a dragon's blood," Vilkas explained, eyes never leaving Elisif. "Capable of killing a dragon for good."

"That one's certainly not going to be getting up and flying again any time soon," said the redhead, going over the dragon's corpse and retrieving various arrows, all the loose dragon bones and scales and a decent amount of coin, which she presented Elisif with.

"There you go, Maia. We're already being paid by the Jarl to deal with any visiting dragons. Only fair you have something for your trouble."

"Thank you," said Elisif softly. "I didn't get your name."

"Aela," the woman said, appraising Elisif and seeming to approve of what she saw. "Aela the Huntress. These are my Shield-Brothers Farkas and Vilkas, and this is Ria, our newest recruit. We're Companions of Jorrvaskr. If you wanted to come with us, you'd be welcome at our hall tonight."

Elisif stared, then turned to Jordis to see if she'd heard that right.

"Are you inviting me to become a Companion?" she whispered. Vilkas actually laughed at that.

"Not my decision," said Aela, swatting Vilkas. "Kodlak, our Harbinger, decides who gets to join. But you can certainly stay as our guest. Not often we get a Dragonborn staying with us."

It certainly beat staying at the inn.

"All right then, lead the way!" Elisif laughed, beckoning to Jordis to follow.

* * *

Elisif looked about her as she entered the hall. Mostly wood, easy prey to a dragon's fire, but homely for all that. There were a few others hanging around, one Nord swigging from a tankard, eyes crossing as he tried to focus in her direction, a dark Elf reading quietly in the corner, a Nord woman who just sneered at her and walked off, and at the table, two older men in the same armour the twins wore, seeming to be having some sort of discussion.

"My mind is made up, Skjor," the bearded one said, determined.

"You can't be serious, Kodlak," Skjor cried. "Why would you want to give it up?"

"There is more to life than the chase," said Kodlak, not wavering an inch, and Elisif realised this must be the famous Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions.

"Nothing worth living for," said Skjor stubbornly, but he backed off when he saw the others walk in. Both Skjor and Kodlak looked at her and Jordis and looked curious.

"A stranger comes," said Kodlak, surprised. "Aela, who is this?"

"A guest," said Aela. "For tonight. That's all right, isn't it, Harbinger?"

"She's got a good story," Farkas added, grinning. Elisif wasn't sure what to make of either wolf twin yet, but Farkas seemed friendly – friendlier than his brother at any rate.

"Kodlak, she's Dragonborn!" Ria cried, and that had the entire room going quiet.

"Dragonborn?" Skjor asked, looking at Elisif with renewed interest. "Are you sure?"

"Damn sure, Skjor, she took a dragon's soul right in front of us," said Vilkas, taking a seat and indicating for Elisif to do likewise. Elisif sat down next to Kodlak, Skjor making way for her and Jordis standing at her shoulder, ready if anything did happen.

"Dragonborn," Kodlak murmured, watching her keenly. "A rare gift indeed. But while the gods wouldn't choose unwisely, it is a man or woman's heart that is the measure of them, not whatever gifts they have." He was staring right into Elisif's eyes and Elisif shivered a little under that gaze. It was as if he could see right into her soul.

"I just want to do right by Skyrim, sir," said Elisif nervously.

"Quite so," said Kodlak, seeming to approve. "But how do you decide what the right thing by Skyrim is?"

A question with an infinite number of answers and no real right one, but Elisif would have to say something, wouldn't she?

"No one can please everyone, sir," said Elisif. "But I don't think the war and the dragons are really helping anyone, so I'd quite like those to stop."

To her surprise, Kodlak actually laughed at that. "A worthy aim indeed! Would that all Nords were so conscientious. Yes, you'll do. Wanting to help but not wanting to force your own ideas on others either, yes, you've got a good heart, lass. You can join."

Join. As in... "You're inviting me to join the Companions?" Elisif gasped. Kodlak nodded.

"Yes. I think the Dragonborn could bring us a great deal of honour, and you look like you could use the help. Even with your friend here at your side." He indicated Jordis, who'd drawn closer to Elisif as they'd talked.

"Oh, this is Jordis," said Elisif, realising she'd have to tell Kodlak something about herself. She didn't want to give her true identity away but she felt guilty about lying too. Still, she had very little choice. "She's my bodyguard. I'm Maia. From High Rock originally, but I've lived the last few years in Solitude."

"Maia of Solitude," said Kodlak thoughtfully, and if he suspected that wasn't her real name, he didn't say anything. "Well, Maia of Solitude, you can consider yourself welcome in Jorrvaskr."

"Better test her sword-arm before you promise her that, Harbinger," Vilkas put in. "She's a noble-born brat who probably never swung a blade before today."

"She went up against a dragon and survived," Aela pointed out. "She's got skills."

"Believe it when I see it," Skjor muttered, looking rather sceptical, and Elisif felt the rage building again, the desire to rip, tear, fight this arrogant joor and make him submit to her, acknowledge the power of her Thu'um, and sweet Kynareth where was this coming from? Elisif shrank back, suddenly afraid. What in the world was happening to her?

"All right then," said Kodlak, getting to his feet. "Let's go to the training yard and see what Maia here's capable of. Maia, you'll be going head to head with Skjor – no, nothing dangerous, just a little sparring match."

Elisif really wasn't sure about this – Skjor must be in his fifties at least and looked every inch the battle-hardened warrior. But there was little to be done. All the Companions seemed to think this was a fine idea and were all filing out after Kodlak.

"I'm really not sure about this!" Elisif whispered to Jordis. Her housecarl just patted her shoulder.

"It'll be fine, Maia," she said, adopting the alias with barely a qualm. "He's not a dragon and you're not trying to kill him. He's not trying to kill you either. Just show him what you can do."

Mara help her. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of – Skjor harming her... or her harming Skjor.

* * *

"Now don't worry about hurting me," Skjor said, shield in place and sword held ready. "I can take whatever you can throw at me, whelp. Just come at me and give it your best shot."

Elisif didn't feel at all comfortable doing this but raised her axe anyway, tentatively swinging it at him. Skjor blocked it easily.

"Try again," he laughed, and Elisif gritted her teeth, going in for another strike, harder this time.

"Too soft!" Skjor barked. "I could have killed you three times while you were flitting about doing that! Again!"

Elisif went for another blow, and another, all easily parried, Skjor looking exasperated, and she could tell Vilkas was smirking, she just knew it, and Kodlak must be so disappointed. She was hopeless, she really was. And yet fighting that dragon, she'd been fine, losing herself to the moment and just striking at it, the Thu'um powering her blows as she danced alongside it.

She'd always liked dancing. Maybe...

Taking a deep breath, she began to dance, treating the whole thing like a strange dance where you moved to avoid your partner's touches but tried to touch them. To her surprise, it seemed to work, as Skjor seemed to hesitate, not sure what she was doing. She could feel a dragon growling inside, the Thu'um ready to strike again, and without fully realising it, she heard herself cry "SU!"

Everything sped up as Elisif lost herself to the moment, striking and slashing, mostly hitting Skjor's shield but he was staggering back, barely holding her off.

"Maia!" she heard Jordis cry. "_Maia!_"

Elisif stopped, sword inches from Skjor's chin.

"Oh," she whispered. "I didn't... oh."

Skjor slowly lowered his weapons, looking up at her with new-found respect.

"I take it back. You're a true fighter. Glad to have you with us."

"I – really?" Next thing Elisif knew, Jordis was hugging her, squeezing her half to death.

"That was awesome! You were so good, Maia, you really were! You could have had him!"

"That's lovely," Elisif whispered faintly, really needing a sit down and some mead right now. The dragon had shut up, but for how long?

Kodlak was there, looking impressed if a little worried.

"Well done, lass, well done indeed. Was that the Thu'um you were using there?"

Elisif nodded, no idea how to respond to that.

"Power indeed. The legends clearly don't lie. It's not the whole story though, is it?" Kodlak asked. "You were fighting like a novice, then you suddenly seemed to get some technique from somewhere, and then you Shouted and became unstoppable. You have power, but you've also got a few skills of your own."

"I had lessons," Elisif whispered.

"They clearly took," said Kodlak, squeezing her shoulder proudly. "I think you're going to make a fine warrior. Just... don't rely too heavily on your dragon powers. Hone your skills, not just your Voice. There's a danger with the Thu'um that those who use it can get carried away, think they're better than other humans, above other humans, like the dragons themselves."

"Like Ulfric," said Ria softly.

"I am _nothing_ like Ulfric," said Elisif, feeling the rage flare up again at the mere thought.

"No, no," Kodlak reassured her. "I'm sure you're very different to him. But dragon blood is not to be taken lightly. Just remember you're still human."

Still human, well of course she was, she was just Elisif at the end of the day, a young girl who'd visited Solitude, gone to a party, met the High King's son, fallen in love and somehow ended up as Jarl. She liked to think she hadn't changed much.

"Harbinger!" the Dunmer Elisif had seen earlier called. "Er... we've got a visitor."

"Another one? Who is it?" Kodlak asked, frowning.

"Er... it's Jarl Balgruuf, Harbinger," the elf said nervously.

Elisif froze, panicking. The one person she'd not wanted to run into, the one person who would recognise her, and he was here at Jorrvaskr, and she couldn't even run because that would be suspicious, that would make it look like she had something to hide. Which she did, but it wasn't like she was a fugitive or anything. She slipped into a chair, poured some mead and hunched her shoulders – with her scaled helmet on and her head down, he might not notice her, might not think she was anything other than just another Companion.

That hope was very quickly dashed.

"Jarl Balgruuf!" Kodlak said, going to meet the Jarl as he came round the corner. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Kodlak, old friend," Balgruuf said, hint of a smile in his voice as the two men embraced. "It's good to see you. My guards told me you have a guest. That you had a little help dealing with the dragon just now. Tell me, is it true the Dragonborn's here?"

All eyes turned to Elisif, who hunched down even further.

"Aye, she's here," said Kodlak softly. "My Jarl, can I ask what you want from her? I hope you don't want to use her in some political machination. She's not a pawn to be used in the war effort."

_Too late for that,_ Elisif thought bitterly. She was aware of Balgruuf walking over to her, Irileth and a couple of guards standing not far behind him. Damn it all, she'd left Solitude to get away from politics! Was her new-found freedom over already?

"No, no," she heard Balgruuf say. "I just wanted to talk with her alone for a few minutes. What did you say she was calling herself?"

"Maia," Kodlak replied. "Maia of Solitude."

"Maia," Balgruuf repeated. "Well then, _Maia._" He'd taken the seat opposite the table from her and glanced at everyone else. "May I have some privacy?"

Kodlak hesitated then nodded, motioning for everyone to leave, while Irileth and the guards retreated out of earshot. Jordis lingered at Elisif's side.

"Maia, I'm not leaving you," she began, but Elisif shook her head.

"Jordis, wait inside. I'm sure the Jarl won't be long."

"If you're sure -" Jordis said, glaring at Balgruuf.

"Jordis. Go." Jordis paused then nodded, taking her leave. Finally, Elisif looked up to meet Balgruuf's eyes. He was watching her, not looking remotely surprised, in fact if anything he looked sympathetic.

"So. You found me then."

"I wasn't actually looking until I heard a Dragonborn who happened to be a young Nord woman turned up," said Balgruuf gently. "Falk's letter arrived this morning with the news – he knew you'd come through here and wanted to make sure you had no trouble. Elisif... is it true?"

No sense denying it and why else would she have left Solitude with just one housecarl at her back?

"Yes. I'm Dragonborn. I'm on my way to High Hrothgar. I was going to stay at the inn, but the Companions found me first. They don't know who I really am. I'd like it to stay that way."

"Understandable," said Balgruuf, nodding. "For your own safety, it's best to keep a low profile. It's just... Dragonborn? You? Not that I don't believe you, it's just... you never were a warrior, Elisif. Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

_No, I'm terrified, I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm really really scared, and the scariest thing of all of it is me._

"I need to do this, Balgruuf," said Elisif softly. "Skyrim needs me, the dragons are attacking everywhere, and no one can kill them but me. So yes I have to go to High Hrothgar, and yes I have to get out there and learn to fight, and the Companions are going to teach me."

"I know," said Balgruuf, and although he looked sad, he also looked rather proud of her. "I just worry about you, that's all. You're a young woman who never asked for any of this."

"No," said Elisif. "But I'm a Nord, and true Nords never back down, right? If I die... at least I'll go to Sovngarde and see Torygg again."

Balgruuf reached over and clasped her hand. "This may sound a little callous, but for all our sakes, I hope you don't die. It would be a very sad loss, both personally and politically."

"Thank you," Elisif whispered. Out of all the other Jarls, Balgruuf had always been her favourite. Igmund was arrogant, Siddgeir obnoxious, Laila a little patronising, Idgrod verging on crazy, Korir bitter, Skald set in his ways and blind to his failings, and as for Ulfric... best not to think too long about him. But Balgruuf had always been genuinely kind to her, like a favourite uncle. She considered him a dear friend, even if he hadn't fully committed to her in the war yet. She had a feeling he would in the end though.

"Don't mention it," said Balgruuf gruffly. "And if there's anything I can do in the mean time, let me know. You're welcome at Dragonsreach any time, you know that."

She knew, and it was good to hear, but she couldn't rely on her social status alone. She thanked him anyway and gave him a hug as he got up to leave.

"You take care," said Balgruuf. "Don't get yourself killed."

"You too," Elisif whispered. Balgruuf nodded.

"Now, where's that Harbinger of yours? I've got a job for him, and you should come as well. You may find it of interest."

* * *

A/N: And there we are, a source of assistance without Elisif having to do the entire Companions questline. I always had a feeling she and Kodlak would get on.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Elisif gets her first real taste of adventure as Dragonborn, although all the death is going to take some getting used to. However, word of her true identity is spreading and the Draugr may prove to be the least of her worries.

* * *

Kodlak looked up from his seat at the small table outside his quarters as Balgruuf approached, Dunmer housecarl and guards behind him, and Maia walking alongside him, looking a little nervous... but not as nervous as you might expect a young woman faced with the Jarl himself to be. Almost as if she knew him somehow. Jordis was alongside her, impassive, and that was something else, the woman having a highly trained bodyguard. Maia of Solitude, Dragonborn, and Vilkas' suspicions she came from a wealthy family and sheltered background were probably spot on. Kodlak began to regret not following politics a little more closely, or perhaps he might be able to guess her family. Was her father the steward? One of the Thanes? Someone in the East Empire Company? Was she one of Elisif's relations? Who knew? But there was some mystery to Maia and while Kodlak had no doubt her heart was true, she was hiding something.

"Jarl Balgruuf," Kodlak greeted his guest, standing up and offering him a chair. Balgruuf accepted and indicated for Maia to join them. She took the third chair, waiting expectantly. Once again, Kodlak had to wonder why the Jarl wanted to speak to the new Dragonborn – well, he could think of many reasons why, none of them exactly honourable, but that was politics for you. Maia didn't seem that bothered though, in fact she seemed quite cheerful compared to when the Jarl had first walked in. Whatever conversation had transpired, the outcome was something she could live with.

"So, assuming you're not here just to interrogate my Companions, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Kodlak asked. Balgruuf actually laughed at that.

"Hardly an interrogation, Kodlak. You can't blame me for being curious about the Dovahkiin. I just wanted to make sure she was all right and settling in and to make sure she knew I'd assist her if she needed it."

For a price, perhaps. But Kodlak wasn't so mean-spirited as to say that to his Jarl's face, privileges of age and Harbingership notwithstanding. Besides, Maia actually seemed to be smiling, so presumably he'd at least come across as genuine. Definitely a mystery here, and they definitely knew each other, no doubt in Kodlak's mind now.

"I'm sure she'll call on you if she needs anything, but I assure you we Companions look after our own," said Kodlak, feeling a little protective of his newest recruit. "Now, was there anything else?"

"Yes, actually," said Balgruuf. "I wasn't going to come in person, but we do have a job that's ideally suited to one of you. We've been looking to recruit someone since the dragons came back, but no one was really willing to do it. However, I know you don't shirk from a job because it's unpleasant or dangerous."

"As long as it's honourable," Kodlak replied, curiosity piqued. "Since the dragons came back – is this to do with dragons then?"

Balgruuf nodded, and Maia perked up immediately. Why did Kodlak have a feeling she was about to volunteer for it?

"What is it?" he asked.

"My court mage is looking into why the dragons have come back," Balgruuf replied. "He's not got terribly far, but a contact of his seems to think a nearby ruin might have something that could help. Apparently the ruin called Bleak Falls Barrow may contain something called the Dragonstone which may contain information crucial to his research and we need -"

"I'll go!" Maia cried. "I mean, it sounds really important and could be useful and -!"

"Maia," Kodlak sighed. Oh good, she'd volunteered, no doubt exactly as Balgruuf had intended. This was why he hated politics and disliked most politicians as a rule. Most of the time, it didn't apply to Balgruuf, but sometimes, Kodlak could apply it even then. "Maia, just because you're Dragonborn doesn't mean you have to..."

"I want to," said Maia stubbornly. "It sounds important and if it helps stop the dragons then it's my duty to help."

"E- you know, when I said you'd find it interesting, I didn't mean you should volunteer!" Balgruuf snapped at her. To her credit, Maia held her ground, staring him down with not a flicker of fear. Very interesting, very interesting indeed. Not many Nords weren't at least a little intimidated by someone with a Jarl's rank.

"Tough, I'm going!" Maia snapped. "You do not get to give me orders, Balgruuf! Not even here!" Before Kodlak could fully process that she'd addressed the Jarl of Whiterun of all people by his first name, no title and essentially pulled rank on him in some way, she'd turned hopeful eyes on him. "Kodlak, you don't mind, do you? I mean, Jordis and I can go, can't we?"

Now this was just bizarre. Someone who could tell a Jarl off but wanted his approval? All the same, it seemed her heart was set on going.

"I would never stop a true-hearted Companion from taking on something honourable that they truly wished to do," Kodlak assured her, feeling rather pleased as her face lit up.

"Yes! Thank you! You won't regret it!" Maia cried. She turned round to the map of Skyrim on Kodlak's desk. "So where is this place then?"

* * *

Elisif was regretting coming down here. She'd been regretting coming down here ever since running into those bandits, but she'd been able to fight them, and that had been a shock, staring down at the bloodied corpses of what had been living human beings until she'd turned up, and the worst part was she didn't even feel that guilty, she felt pleased. Pleased her Thu'um had been stronger.

_They didn't even have the Thu'um! _ But Jordis had patted her on the shoulder and congratulated her and told her not to worry about it, they were just bandits.

Just bandits. But even bandits had mothers and fathers out there to worry about them, and who'd mourn the loss. These would never even get a decent burial. She'd dragged the bodies into the tower and said a quiet prayer to the Eight for them. High Rock raised and born after the war ended, she'd never really known Talos as a god, just an Emperor who'd been worshipped as such, rightly or wrongly. She felt sorry for him, being de-deified like that, but never strongly enough to worship him. Now it appeared she was Dragonborn like him. Made her even less inclined to treat him like a god, but all the same, she could still look up to him a little.

She could wish she had an army like his though. As it was, it was just her and Jordis, although Jordis wasn't exactly a pushover, to put it mildly. They found more bandits at the Barrow itself, all of which proved easy prey, and then had come the Draugr. They'd killed that bandit Arvel – Elisif found it hard to feel too sorry for him, given that he'd reacted to her saving him by running off cackling about treasure – and then they'd turned on her.

Elisif had never encountered undead before, although she'd heard of dustmen and bonewalkers. The reality was worse than the stories, but they proved easy prey in the end, despite the fact that Elisif was screaming her head off throughout. Finally, she and Jordis had made it to a huge cavern, with bats fluttering around and a river running through it... and a Word Wall looming up at the far end.

"This is it," Elisif whispered. "I can feel it, can't you?"

"Feel what, Maia?" Jordis asked, confused. Elisif paid her no attention, running off to inspect it further. She could feel the air getting heavy, chanting in her ears, power swarming around her as the word FUS glowed out at her, burning into her mind and the dragon soul buried within her unlocking its meaning for her. Force, the power to fling obstacles out of her way. Well, couldn't she use that one.

"Maia?" Jordis was calling, racing up the stairs after her. "Maia, are you – MAIA!"

Elisif turned, dread prickling down the back of her neck. Behind her, the lid of the stone coffin behind her went flying and a Draugr's rattle echoed across the room. It was bigger than the other Draugr, bigger and tougher and was that greatsword enchanted?

"FUS!" she Shouted, sending it staggering back, which was long enough for Jordis to catch up and start fighting it. Then it rallied and the battle was on.

Finally the thing died, life going out of it. Jordis poked it with her sword.

"I think it's dead. Properly dead." She looked up at Elisif, impressed. "What was that you did? A new Shout?"

Elisif nodded, pointing at the wall. "Yeah, it was on there. You can't see it glowing though, can you."

Jordis shook her head, awed. "No," she whispered, gazing at Elisif in rapture. "You're really Dragonborn! With the Thu'um and everything!"

"Yes," Elisif said, still hardly able to believe it herself. "Looks like it, anyway." She picked the Draugr's sword up, admiring it. A Frost enchantment – not that powerful, but potentially useful. She could use two-handed weapons if she had to, although she was better with one-handed. A search of the Draugr itself revealed what they'd been looking for – the Dragonstone. It was a solid lump of rock, and it looked like a map of Skyrim with strange star markings on. Odd. Very odd. But if it was what Balgruuf and Farengar wanted... She put the stone in her pack and went in search of the exit. Time to get the golden claw back to its owner and this stone back to Whiterun.

* * *

"Are you serious?" Kodlak asked, not entirely able to believe what Vilkas was telling him.

"Serious, Harbinger," Vilkas affirmed. "That's what the gossip is saying – Jarl Elisif of Solitude is Dragonborn and has left Solitude to go and train with the Greybeards at High Hrothgar. She's planning on coming back, but she's left her steward in charge."

"There's two Dragonborns?" Farkas said, confused. "Has that ever happened before?"

"No, idiot," Aela sighed. "Maia _is _Elisif!"

The entire Circle had withdrawn to discuss this new gossip that had come filtering in – Ria had heard it from one of the guards and told Vilkas, who'd brought it straight to Kodlak, who'd called the Circle in immediately.

"Maia's the Jarl of Solitude?" Farkas said, still frowning. "But why's she not brought her guards with her?"

"Possibly something to do with the fact the only route up to High Hrothgar starts in the Rift, which is Stormcloak territory?" Vilkas said pointedly. "And that if the tale she's Dragonborn is spreading, it's not out of the question Ulfric might decide to set a trap for her there. Her best hope is in no one knowing it's her."

Precisely, which was probably why she was travelling incognito – or trying to. Of course, something like the Jarl of Solitude being Dragonborn tended to get around. Kodlak couldn't believe he'd not worked it out sooner – of course, no one expected a Jarl to end up being Dragonborn. It did however explain everything, from the top-notch yet barely used equipment, to Maia's ability to tell Jarl Balgruuf off and not have to worry about consequences. Who was on first name terms with a Jarl, other than that Jarl's immediate family? Another Jarl, of course. And who could tell a Jarl what to do? The High Queen in waiting. Not that Balgruuf had committed in the war yet, but it was clear his sympathies weren't with Ulfric.

"So what do we do?" Aela asked. "We're not supposed to get involved in politics! You said so yourself when you advised we not take sides. Are we all Imperials now?"

It was true, Kodlak had said that and he stood by it – but when he looked at young Maia, he'd not seen a politician. He'd seen a naïve young girl in way over her head and in trouble and he'd not hesitated to help her. That was still the case.

"Skjor, what do you think? You've been very quiet," Kodlak said. Skjor was sitting off to the side, head in his hands.

"I just sparred with the High Queen of Skyrim," said Skjor, sounding a bit faint. Kodlak hoped he wasn't actually going to keel over. That would be embarrassing.

"I'm sure she won't hold it against you," said Kodlak reassuringly. "From the look of it, being treated like a normal person is exactly what she wants."

"She's not normal, she's a Dragonborn!" Vilkas pointed out.

"Exactly," said Kodlak. "Whatever our views on the war, the dragons transcend all that and so does the Dragonborn. That the Dragonborn will cut her own arm off rather than support Ulfric is neither here nor there, or rather, it's nothing to do with us. We will not intervene directly in the war, and if Elisif decides to take to the field against Ulfric herself, we cannot follow her. But we will provide her with weapons training and a place to rest her head in safety, and in her endeavours as Dragonborn, we can and will protect her."

"Ulfric won't see it that way," Skjor said, Aela nodding in agreement. "He sees anyone who's not with him as against him. If he were to find out we're harbouring Elisif..."

"Ulfric Stormcloak is, whatever his faults, a true Nord, and he will not move against the Companions of Jorrvaskr if he wants the Nords in his armies to keep supporting him," said Kodlak firmly.

"No, because up until now, we've stayed out of it," Aela responded, clearly ill at ease with all this. "Once it becomes known we've got Elisif in our ranks, he'll declare us as having joined the fray after all."

"Then we do not have Elisif in our ranks," said Kodlak calmly, amazed at how easily all this politicking was coming to him. "We have among us a young adventurer called Maia and her friend Jordis who are here learning how to fight and make a bit of gold and some stories to tell in the process. And if said adventurer happens to be Dragonborn and requires our assistance in dealing with the dragons, well, we can hardly say no to that, can we? Neither side in the war benefits from the dragons."

"This sounds awfully dangerous, Harbinger," said Aela, disapproving. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Kodlak didn't entirely, no, but on a purely personal level, Elisif had impressed him and he didn't like the idea of the girl being out there on her own with no one at her back. To take part in the legend of the Dragonborn – no true Nord of any honour could say no to that.

If Elisif won her crown, he'd be very happy for her. And if she lost it to Ulfric, she'd need somewhere to go where she'd be protected, safe from political machinations. Kodlak intended for Jorrvaskr to be it.

* * *

Elisif finally made her way back to Jorrvaskr, exhausted but triumphant. She'd dropped the Dragonstone off at Dragonsreach, accepting a set of Orcish armour for Jordis as a reward, before returning to Jorrvaskr. The place was quiet, and she crept into the sleeping quarters, Jordis behind her, grabbed an empty bed and slept.

She woke to Ria kneeling by the bed, smiling at her.

"Hey, you made it!" Ria whispered. "Welcome back, Maia. Did you find the Dragonstone?"

"Yes, it's with Farengar now," said Elisif, before remembering she was supposed to have never visited Whiterun before and have no connection with the city or the Jarl's court. "At least, I think that's what his name was. The court wizard. The one with the side-burns."

"That's him," said Ria, grinning at Elisif, and Elisif had the strange thought that maybe, just maybe Ria knew more than she let on. Elisif sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, wincing as aching muscles that had been busy fighting Draugr yesterday protested at having to move.

"About ten o'clock. We let you sleep in because we knew you'd been out all day yesterday, but Kodlak wants to see you," said Ria, growing sombre. That wasn't good news, it really wasn't.

"Me? Why, does he have work for me?" Elisif asked, hoping she wasn't in trouble already.

"He didn't say," Ria replied, helping Elisif up, although she wasn't quite meeting Elisif's eyes and Elisif knew she was hiding something. "Just that you should see him before taking on any work or going anywhere."

Mysterious. Elisif thanked Ria and got dressed, before going to find out what the Harbinger wanted.

He was sitting outside his room, having breakfast and looking thoughtful, if a little pensive. He saw Elisif approach and motioned her to sit down with a smile

"Good morning, lass. Did your trip to Bleak Falls Barrow go well?"

"We found it," Elisif said, slipping into the chair opposite, feeling her stomach growling at the sight of the toast and honey Kodlak was tucking into. He noticed her staring at the pile and motioned for her to help herself. Elisif did so, unable to stop herself moaning as the sweetness hit her tongue.

"This is so nice," she gasped. "I need to come here for breakfast more often!"

"You're quite welcome here any time, my dear," Kodlak said, smiling. "But I think you and I at least should be honest with each other. I know who you are, Elisif."

Elisif felt her appetite die as she lowered her toast. He knew – how did he know? She'd been so careful...

"Please don't tell anyone," she whispered. "Please, you can't tell anyone, it's too dangerous, you can't!"

"I won't," Kodlak reassured her. "But you are in terrible danger, and there's limits to Jorrvaskr's protection. If Ulfric were to find out you were here..."

"You're asking me to leave," Elisif said, staring at the table, fighting back tears of frustration. This wasn't even Stormcloak territory!

"No, lass." Kodlak reached out and took her hand. "We are Companions of Jorrvaskr and we don't back down from doing the right thing just because someone in another city starts rattling his swords. We do not get involved in politics, lass. The war and your business with Ulfric is your own."

All well and good but Elisif knew Ulfric all too well and he'd show very little mercy if he knew they were harbouring her at Jorrvaskr.

"It'll be your business if he finds out I'm here!" Elisif cried. "Just by knowingly sheltering me, you've taken a side in his eyes."

"I know," said Kodlak, staring into her eyes. "But I'm not afraid of Ulfric Stormcloak, and I'm not going to let him stop me from offering aid to a young woman in need. Elisif, I can't help you with the civil war, but the Dragonborn transcends politics. Any help you need with the dragons, just ask and it's yours."

Elisif squeezed his hand back, not sure what to say. "Thank you," she gasped. "I – I really appreciate it. I don't know how much time I'll be able to spend here but it's good to have friends."

"It is. I have a feeling you're going to need them," said Kodlak, smile fading. "Elisif, word is spreading about you being Dragonborn. They say you absorbed a dragon soul in the middle of Solitude, is that true?"

Elisif winced and nodded. It was going to get out sooner or later, but she'd naively hoped for later.

"Everyone's going to know soon enough, aren't they?" she asked. Kodlak nodded sympathetically.

"I'm afraid so. As it is, people already know you're going to High Hrothgar. It occurred to some of us the only way to that monastery involves heading into Stormcloak territory. If we thought of it, Ulfric will when he hears the news. You need to leave and leave today before he can get troops in place."

She'd been intending to do that very thing anyway, but the thought of an army of Stormcloaks lying in wait for her was disconcerting to say the least, and not something she'd considered.

"You really think he would?" Elisif whispered, but she didn't need to ask, of course he'd do that very thing. If word had got into Whiterun yesterday, it wouldn't take long to reach Windhelm. Ulfric would need time to get a troop of soldiers into place, a day to send the orders then a day or two for them to assemble? She did not have long.

"Then I need to get going," said Elisif firmly. "Who else knows here?"

"The Circle, I called them in when the news reached my ears. They understand the situation and won't sell you out, don't worry," Kodlak assured her. "Also young Ria. Don't know if the others do yet, but it's difficult to keep something like that quiet. Best you go now."

Elisif nodded, snatching a couple of toast slices and taking her leave. Time to wake Jordis and get ready to leave. She had Greybeards to meet.

* * *

"Maia." Elisif stopped as Ria called to her from the bed she was sitting on. "You're leaving, aren't you? For High Hrothgar."

"Keep your voice down!" Elisif hissed. The room was empty apart from a just waking Jordis, but Elisif didn't believe in taking chances.

"What's up?" Jordis asked, rubbing her eyes. "Something wrong?"

"Yes – no. Look, just get up and get dressed," Elisif sighed. "Word is spreading, you and I need to leave today. We've wasted enough time going after that Dragonstone."

"Yes, Maia," said Jordis, immediately alert. "I'll get ready at once."

Elisif passed her housecarl her armour and weapons and looked away while Jordis got changed. Ria was still there, biting her lip and looking as if she desperately wanted to say something.

"Yes, Ria, what is it?" Elisif asked.

"Can I come?" Ria pleaded. "Please? I mean, you could use all the help you can get and I'd love to go adventuring with the Dragonborn!"

Jordis did look up at that, wary and on guard. "Maia, with all due respect, I don't think taking someone else is a good idea..."

Elisif wasn't entirely sure herself, but Kodlak had said Ria knew who she was, more help was always welcome, and if Ria was in on it, Elisif wanted her where she could see her.

"Fine, you can come, but you need to get ready now, we're not hanging around. Also I don't know what you may have heard, but my name is Maia and that's what you'll be calling me, got it?"

"Yes, Maia," Ria said, although the look in her eyes told Elisif that Ria knew damn well who she was. At least Ria was Imperial and unlikely to support Ulfric, and more to the point, Kodlak had believed in her sufficiently to let her into the Companions. That meant she was trustworthy, right?

Elisif hoped so, for everyone's sake.

* * *

Ivarstead had been quiet when Elisif finally got there. There'd been a few beasts on the way but nothing the three of them hadn't been able to handle. Then the welcoming sight of Ivarstead itself up ahead and best of all, no Stormcloaks in sight other than the town's guards, all of whom had just glanced their way and let them pass.

The inn had been cosy enough, although the innkeeper's stories of ghosts haunting the nearby barrow had set them all on edge. Then Ria had whispered that they could go and investigate, and while Jordis had whispered back they were meant to be going up to High Hrothgar before Ulfric got here, Elisif had had to agree with Ria. The poor man's livelihood was at stake! What sort of queen didn't help in this sort of situation? In the end, they'd lost another day while Elisif had ventured in to Shroud Hearth Barrow. Turned out the alleged ghost had been an explorer trying to break into the place, and while Elisif had felt sorry for him, that had not stopped her from defending herself when he'd attacked and then carving him up with that enchanted greatsword from Bleak Falls Barrow.

The gratitude from Wilhelm had been worth it though, and the gift of a dragon claw key to unlock the rest of the barrow and the Word Wall hiding inside had been even more so. Jordis had been mollified by a new sword and shield, and Ria was very proud of the steel plate armour they'd found in there, so her companions at least were happy. Just the monastery now.

And so they made their way up the mountain, dealing with wolves and frostbite spiders, and saying hello to the odd pilgrim and it had all gone well until they'd encountered the troll.

True Nords never back down and nor did Elisif, hacking at the troll with her axe and getting a couple of good blows in before it lashed out and sent her reeling in a spray of blood.

Oh. Oh, this was not good. The claws had mostly gone for her chest and Elisif watched in faint horror as her blood pooled out in front of her. Wincing, she tried to focus, tried to cast that healing spell Sybille had taught her but she was so weak and dizzy and her strength was fading...

Jordis had flung herself screaming into the fight with the troll, finally killing it as she shoved her sword into its chest, while Ria was going through her pack now, grabbing a healing potion and holding it to her throat. Elisif drank, feeling her strength return, and then another potion, and another, until finally she felt better. She risked looking down at herself, sitting in the pink snow, armour hanging off and two parallel scars crossing her chest, just under the collarbone.

"Oh," Elisif whispered, tracing them with her finger, still tender and sore. Scars. Well, warriors all had a few, right? Wasn't like anyone was ever going to be looking at her naked again in the near future. Not with Torygg gone.

"Maia, are you alright?" Ria asked softly, concerned. Elisif nodded, motionless while Jordis produced some replacement armour straps and fixed her outfit for her.

"I'm fine," said Elisif, eyes falling on to the dead troll. It was dead, she wasn't. That was the important thing, right?

"You don't look it, are you sure-?" Ria placed a hand on Elisif's shoulder and Elisif lost her temper, shoving Ria away.

"I said I'm fine!" Elisif shouted, and she could have sworn the air shook with the sound of her voice. Ria had backed off, looking seriously worried and a little afraid of her, and Jordis had sat back, one hand instinctively going to her sword hilt. Elisif met her eyes and immediately looked away, guilt filling her. Gods, what was wrong with her, they were just scars, lots of people had them, and Ria was just trying to help! Elisif shivered, staring at her hands, wishing that the voice in her head that kept urging her to rip, tear, kill, destroy would just _shut up._ Aedra help her, what was she turning into?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just... I'm OK, really, I'm just exhausted and scared and... look, can we get moving, I'm freezing out here."

Ria was watching her carefully, looking wary, but at length she nodded and helped Elisif up. Jordis didn't react at all, her housecarl training kicking in. Elisif had no idea what was actually going on in their heads, but most likely they both thought she was losing it completely. She wasn't entirely certain they were wrong.

Definitely time to talk to the Greybeards. If anyone could help her, they could.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: Elisif visits the Greybeards to learn more of her power, but while she fears the dragon within, it's the enemy without she needs to watch out for...

* * *

High Hrothgar wasn't much warmer inside than out but at least she was out of the wind. Quiet and dark it was, peaceful after the long trek up the mountain. She'd heard it was far removed from the cares of the world, and it seemed it. Up here, she could almost forget about Torygg and the war and Ulfric. Almost.

"Hello?" she called out. "Anyone here?"

Movement and then four of them emerged, four Nords in furred robes assembling in the hallway, three of them standing quietly in the background while the fourth made his way over.

"So, a Dragonborn comes at this turning of the age." The Greybeard looked her over and Elisif couldn't tell if he approved or not. "I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Tell me, why have you come here?"

A question with many different answers and it was hard to pick one, but Elisif did her best. "Because I think I'm Dragonborn," she sighed. "And I need help." _Because I'm scared of the power, scared of myself, scared I'm turning into Ulfric..._

Arngeir nodded, actually seeming sympathetic – pleased, at any rate. "Well, that is what we are here to do, guide and guard the Dragonborn on her way. If, that is, you really are Dragonborn. Come, let us taste of your voice. Do not fear harming us, we are all trained to withstand the power of the Thu'um."

"What... you mean, Shouting?" Elisif asked, exchanging nervous looks with Ria and Jordis. Aedra, no, the Shouts seemed to make it worse somehow. Arngeir nodded, waiting expectantly, as were the other three. All waiting for her to prove she was Dragonborn. All waiting for her to Shout. In order to win the Greybeards' help, she'd have to do the very thing that made her more dragon-like. Not like she had a choice, did she? Steeling herself, she took a deep breath.

"FUS!"

Arngeir staggered back, the Greybeard behind him staggered back, vases and pots went flying and the room seemed to shake. Elisif felt the voice in her head howl in delight, a savage joy that her voice was so strong even the Greybeards had trouble withstanding it. _All shall fall before me and I shall be Queen!_

Elisif caught her breath as the delight faded. Dear gods, what was she turning into? She'd never wanted this sort of power before. Now here she was craving it?

"Dragonborn," said Arngeir, marvelling as he recovered his balance. "It is you. Welcome."

"Thank you," Elisif whispered. "I'm Dragonborn. Now what?"

Arngeir smiled, reaching out a hand and leading her forward. "Now, Dragonborn, it's time for you to learn."

* * *

Elisif wasn't sure how long she'd been at the monastery. Hours? Days? Hard to tell. Her training had gone well, right up until she'd put the new Thu'um they'd taught her together with one of the ones she already knew and realised she was learning the same thing Ulfric had killed her husband with. At that point, she'd broken down in tears and wept that she couldn't do it, she couldn't be Dragonborn, she couldn't turn into a monster, she couldn't. Arngeir had looked a bit confused and asked what was wrong, and she'd ended up confessing everything. That she was the rightful High Queen but only because Ulfric had used the Thu'um to murder her husband, the High King before her. At the mention of Ulfric's name, Arngeir's face had grown grim but he'd nodded in sympathy and led her away to talk in private.

"I'm sorry," Elisif whispered, wiping the tears away. "You must think I'm pathetic."

"Not at all, my dear, you've clearly not had the best time with the Voice," Arngeir said, his voice soothing. "If your first introduction to it was to see it misused, and against your own husband... no wonder. Here, sit, have some mead, you look like you need it."

"Thank you," Elisif whispered, tearfully accepting the mead on offer. Not Colovian brandy but it would do.

"Did you want to talk about it?" Arngeir asked. Elisif dried her eyes and pulled herself together. She'd come here hoping they could help after all.

"I keep dreaming about it," she said quietly. "And when I'm awake, I keep remembering it. Fus Ro Dah, that was it. One Shout and Torygg was down and then Ulfric's sword and he was... he was gone. Not even for any good reason! Just to make a point! To convince people we were the Empire's puppets. And it worked, didn't it? Now half the country thinks Skyrim should be free to worship Talos again, free from the Empire, without the Thalmor interfering. And do you know what, Torygg was one of them! He used to talk to me about it, how he hated having to turn over his own people to the Dominion just because they worshipped Talos. He worshipped Talos too, so had his father, he was furious he couldn't any more because of some treaty he'd not even signed. He looked up to Ulfric, admired him, if Ulfric had come in and given some speech about how his conscience couldn't let him serve someone who blindly followed the Empire and he was going to secede from Skyrim on his own unless Torygg declared Skyrim's independence, Torygg might have gone along with it! He'd certainly have listened. But Ulfric just walked in, challenged him to a duel and... and murdered him. Now I'm expected to learn how to do the same thing? I can't, Arngeir! I can't..."

"No one expects you to use the Thu'um on someone weaker than you so that you can kill them without risk to yourself," said Arngeir firmly. "Our teachings are very clear on the matter – to use the Voice for any reason other than for the worship of the gods and the contemplation of the sky is a gross misuse of Kynareth's gifts. We did not teach Ulfric so he could go out into the world and use his power for murder and treason. On behalf of all of us, Dragonborn, please accept our humblest apologies. We did not know, had no idea the young boy we trained would turn into a warlord."

"Did the Thu'um do it to him?" Elisif whispered, trying to imagine Ulfric as a boy and failing. He must have been once, she supposed, but he was such an imposing bear of a man, it was hard to think of him as anything else.

"Who can say," Arngeir sighed. "I've long wondered. But someone wiser than I told me that power doesn't corrupt, it only brings out what was there already. Give power to someone inclined to evil, they will use it for evil. Give power to the good, they will try and use it for good ends. Give it to the wise, and they won't use it at all unless they have to. We taught it to Ulfric, and he turned out to be someone who thinks that because he believes his cause is just, he can do anything he likes to further it." Arngeir didn't even bother hiding the bitterness and Elisif felt sorry for him. Someone else who'd been betrayed by Ulfric.

"I don't know if I want to use it at all," Elisif said softly. "What if I end up like him? I'm already scared of it. I'm just so angry all the time lately. I keep dreaming of dragons, I keep dreaming I am one, and every time someone says something I don't like, or I start fighting..." Elisif put her head in her hands. "I think I'm turning into a monster," she whispered.

"Dragonborn." She felt a hand on her arm, and looked up to see Arngeir looking sympathetic. "The dragon blood is a hard burden to bear, I know. Your path is not an easy one, but that you are willing to admit your fear, that you are aware of the possibility for misuse... yes, you are worthy, Dragonborn. You see, we lectured Ulfric on this possibility many times, and he listened and seemed to take it on board... but only later did it become obvious that he never thought the perils of power could ever apply to him. Already you are different. Your path may follow his for a while, but you will not walk it in the same way. I cannot say where you will end up, but I don't think you're going to turn into a monster. You see yourself too clearly for that. You will know if you are approaching the point of no return... and you will know to come to us before that happens, leave the world behind entirely and join us in seclusion and peace."

Seclusion and peace. It was a lovely thought. But alas it wasn't that easy. She was a Jarl, the rightful High Queen, she had responsibilities, her country needed her! All the same, if a day ever did come when she was more of a danger to Skyrim than anything else could possibly be, when she became a liability as ruler... it was good to know she'd have somewhere to retire to.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, finally feeling a little bit of hope returning. Yes, she'd have to walk in Ulfric's footsteps, learn what he had... but then she would learn more, outstrip him, become a true Master of the Thu'um, and then she would bring him down. To avenge Torygg, yes. But also because Skyrim would be a better place without him. It'd end the war anyway. Elisif didn't know what would happen after that, if she'd even survive. But she'd do her best, and it was like she'd said to Kodlak, the war and dragons weren't helping anyone. She had to stop those at least.

"So, you were going to train me?" she said hopefully. Arngeir nodded, reaching out a hand to her.

"Yes. If you think you can learn?"

"I'll do my best," Elisif promised. Satisfied with that, Arngeir led her off. Time for her to start learning in earnest.

And so the time passed. Elisif practised Unrelenting Force against a set of figures they conjured for her and did well, much to Arngeir's satisfaction and indeed her own. It was getting easier, slowly, and she was managing to do it without thinking too much about Torygg. Maybe this Shout flung people to the ground like dolls, but unless she Shouted them off a cliff, it was unlikely to kill them on its own. She'd save it for opponents stronger than her, or for wild beasts that didn't know any better, or Draugr. She didn't have a problem with killing Draugr.

Then they'd taught her the first word of Whirlwind Sprint, and that had been fun, sprinting up and down the courtyard with it. Finally, Arngeir and she had talked of many things, the dragon blood and what it meant, the Greybeards and their history, the Way of the Voice and at last a task for her. To go to Ustengrav in Hjaalmarch and retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Imperial territory at least, so no need to worry about Stormcloaks. Just anything else that might be lying in wait.

When it became apparent the Greybeards could tell her no more, not until she found that Horn at any rate, Elisif located Jordis and Ria, both waiting patiently in the Greybeards' living quarters, and took her leave. Time to return to the world.

* * *

The trouble started as soon as Elisif got off the mountain. The once placid little town looked more like an army camp, with tents camped around it, and the guard had trebled. Elisif took one look at the banners flying over the biggest tent and her heart sank. Stormcloaks. Ulfric had heard all right and he'd made his move.

"That's bad," Ria whispered.

"We can do this," said Jordis, assessing the situation. "Ria and I will just walk past, while you sneak over to the left by that cave. I think you can climb down that way, get out into the wilderness. It's your best chance, Maia."

"It's not that good, I think there's bears over there!" Elisif hissed back.

"They're not as bad as the Bear over there," said Ria, reaching for her sword. "Go, sneak off now!"

This seemed extremely unheroic to Elisif, but what choice did she have? Dropping into a sneak pose, she crept off while Jordis and Ria strolled towards the bridge.

Three Stormcloaks emerged from the bushes in front of her, bows drawn, while three more emerged from the river. More had gathered on the bridge, and while Jordis and Ria had weapons drawn, they were outnumbered. Elisif got to her feet, shaking all over but determined not to show her fear.

"What do you want?" she demanded, trying to sound calm. "I am a law-abiding citizen with no bounty in the Rift!"

From behind her, a voice she'd never wanted to hear again.

"Law-abiding and bountyless I can believe, but not citizen. Show your face to me, Elisif. I want to know if the rumours are true. I can't believe you'd be here of all places without the Empire's troops at your back if they weren't."

Slowly, ever so slowly, fear and rage warring inside her in equal measure, Elisif turned around to where her husband's murderer was approaching, Galmar at his back and a few other guards she didn't recognise.

"Stay away from me," Elisif hissed, reaching for her axe. "I'm warning you, Ulfric."

"Brave words," Ulfric laughed. "You're a true Nord, I can respect that. And Dragonborn, I can respect that too. But you're outnumbered and I refuse to believe the Greybeards made you a master of the Thu'um in the short time you've been up there." He was striding forward, and the son of a bitch had the nerve to actually smile at her. "Elisif. Why so hostile? I don't mean you harm."

"You murdered my husband," Elisif snapped. "I have nothing to say to you."

"He lost, Elisif," Ulfric shrugged. "It happens. He died honourably, you should take comfort from that."

"What would you know of honour, traitor?" Elisif hissed and that did get to him. His smile faded as rage twisted his face.

"And what would you know about power, girl?" he spat. "You, with the power of a dragon? A pathetic, weak Imperial puppet, dancing to the tune of the Legion and having a good time at Elenwen's parties while true Nords suffer for worshipping their own gods? You don't even believe in Talos and yet you were given the Dragonborn gift?"

"Jealous?" Elisif couldn't help but ask, and he was, he clearly was, he was clearly outraged beyond all reason that she'd been given the Dragon blood and not him, which as far as Elisif was concerned was clear proof he was the last person in Skyrim who should be allowed to have it. Ulfric gritted his teeth and he was clearly close to losing his temper.

"Of you? Hardly," he growled. "But I can see you're not the weakling I thought, if you do have the gift. So I'm offering you this chance. Join me, Elisif. Save your country with me. We can take on the Empire, with the Dragonborn Queen by my side, I can rally our kinsmen and lead us to victory. We can do this, Elisif. I'll take back Solitude for you, you can be High Queen in truth. Just come to Windhelm with me."

Well wasn't that nice of him. The only problem was, if she was Queen that meant he wouldn't be King. Unless...

"Oh gods," she whispered, horrified at the mere idea of marrying Ulfric Stormcloak. "No. Absolutely not. Never, Ulfric, never, I am never allying with _you!_"

"That's a pity," Ulfric said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I had hoped to take you willingly. You would have had a much easier time of it. Men, take her. Remember, I want her alive!"

Jordis and Ria had their weapons drawn, and Elisif drew both her axes, ready to die rather than be taken prisoner to suffer whatever fate Ulfric had in store for her. Better Sovngarde than a Stormcloak prison cell... or Ulfric Stormcloak's bed and honestly, Elisif would take the prison cell any day given the choice.

It was at that precise moment some dreadful howl echoed over the town and as everyone turned to see what on Nirn that was, two shapes leapt from the undergrowth. Humanoid... but with heads like wolves. Very big wolves. Werewolves.

As one, the Stormcloaks turned, weapons drawn to face this new threat presently tearing into their ranks, and Elisif realised she wasn't going to get another chance. Ulfric was already running towards the wolves, Galmar between him and her, and Elisif wasn't such a fool as to go up against Ulfric. She wasn't strong enough, not yet. But with his men distracted, torn between the werewolves, and Jordis and Ria, there was time for her to get away.

"Jordis, Ria, come on!" Elisif cried, hacking into one Stormcloak with her ebony axe and her glass axe finding another.

Jordis' greatsword took the head off another, but she showed no signs of breaking off the fight.

"Go, my Queen," Jordis said, not taking her eyes off the foe for a second. "We'll hold them off. Get yourself out of here, it's you they want."

"But you'll be killed!" Elisif cried. "I can't leave you!"

"Elisif, go!" Ria shouted, bashing a Stormcloak to the ground with her shield. "You're the Dragonborn and true High Queen, you're too important to be captured or killed. For the love of Kynareth, run! We'll see you back at Whiterun."

Elisif nodded, lump in her throat as she carved her way through one Stormcloak, dodged another and finally Shouted "WULD!" In truth, she had no idea if she'd ever see either again, but she couldn't let them die in vain. Tears in her eyes, she ran.

* * *

Of course, being a Jarl had one advantage in a situation like this. It meant that Elisif knew where the Imperial camps were, and more to the point, that there was one a few miles south of Ivarstead. If she could get there, tell the Legate that Ulfric himself was here, get reinforcements on the way, they might just win this day.

She ran on and sure enough the camp was where the maps had said, she could see campfire smoke – smoke? That much smoke?

She got there to see barricades smashed, tents smouldering, dead horses, dead soldiers – and in the midst of the carnage, five Stormcloaks still there, lying in wait for any stragglers.

Before Elisif could fully process that the camp was no more, they'd seen her.

"Move along kinswoman, this is Stormcloak business," one snapped. Mutely, Elisif stepped back, having no problem with running, right up until one of them developed a brain.

"Wait a second, she's dressed awful fancy for a mercenary. And she's young, Nord, red hair – that's her! Lady Elisif! Get her."

Well crap. That was her disguise seen through. Five against one – not brilliant odds, but they probably weren't Ulfric's elite either, not if they'd been left here to guard a destroyed enemy camp.

"FACE YOUR DEATHS WITH SOME HONOUR!" she screamed, and that gave three of them pause, which meant only two with raised blades to deflect. "SU!"

The Thu'um took hold and this was how it had been with Skjor, except far more intense, nothing but them and her and the dance, dodging away from their blades while striking out with hers, and first one fell back bleeding, then the other lay dead and the other three had recovered by this time but it wouldn't help them. Shrieking with the rage she'd been trying to contain all this time, Elisif fell on to them with a demented howl, hacking into human flesh as if it were meat, imagining they were Ulfric, and two died quickly while the third fled in terror. Elisif's Thu'um wore off and she finally sank to her knees, arms bleeding from where she'd taken a few hits. Eyes closed, she drank the last of her healing potions and concentrated on the healing spell Sybille had taught her. It proved to be enough. Elisif got to her feet, still swaying from post-battle exhaustion. Time to get out of here, that fifth Stormcloak would make for the main camp and Ulfric's men would be here soon enough. Turning for the Helgen Pass, Elisif fled.

* * *

She ran for hours, staying off-road for the most part, right up until she hit the mountains and then she had no choice but to follow it, shivering as the snow started to fall but she didn't stop, couldn't stop, not until she got to Haemar's Shame, and then her legs finally gave way and she collapsed, dragging herself into the cave mouth and sitting down, out of the snow at least.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been there until she heard footsteps approach. Just one person from the sound of it but she was tired and exhausted and still weak from blood loss and she didn't want to fight. She was still trying to make the memory of seeing those dead Stormcloaks at her feet go away.

"Elisif?"

Aela, it was Aela the Huntress, and Elisif had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

"Here!" she cried, and Aela ran over, dropping to sit by her.

"Elisif," said Aela, her voice gentle, sounding relieved more than anything, and Elisif leaned closer, glad of the comfort. "There you are. I was beginning to think we'd seen the last of you."

"I killed some people," Elisif whispered, numb. Aela rubbed her back, faint smile on her face.

"I know, I was following your trail. Were those four dead soldiers at the remains of the Imperial camp your work?"

Elisif nodded, trying to forget the blood and the screams and the way she'd just _changed_ as she'd attacked, driven on by the power of the Thu'um. Aela actually looked impressed.

"You took on all four of them on your own? Well done, that was good work."

"One got away," Elisif whispered and even though he was the enemy, she hoped he'd found safety. Alas, that hope was soon dashed.

"Oh don't worry, he didn't get far," said Aela dismissively. "He ran into me on the way back to that coward Ulfric. They won't find out where you ran off to."

Elisif closed her eyes. Nords were brave, Nords were tough, Nords were meant to be warriors but Elisif couldn't for the life of her understand how people could get used to death so easily.

"What are you even doing here?" Elisif whispered. "Did Kodlak send you?"

Aela hesitated and Elisif guessed that was probably a no. "Not exactly. But Ria's the youngest of us, it didn't seem right to let her be the only one at your back, so Skjor and I decided to follow. Lucky we did, for you anyway. I think Ulfric would have captured you if we'd not been there."

"You were there?" Elisif asked, surprised. She'd not seen them – and then it hit her. Werewolves. "Wait, you're a werewolf?"

Aela cursed under her breath. "Yes," she admitted. "But you can't tell anyone. No one's meant to know outside the Companions. Skjor is – was – one too." Aela hung her head at this point, and Elisif's shock on learning she was sitting next to a werewolf took second place to realising someone actually had died because of her.

"Oh! Oh Aela, I'm so sorry. He didn't make it, did he?"

Aela shook her head, face barely visible under her hair as she stared at the ground. "No," she said at length. "There were too many, and numbers overwhelmed. They would have got me too, but you'd been able to get away, Skjor was gone – no reason for me to stay and keep fighting. So I led a few of them on a wild goose chase, got away and doubled back to try and find you. I had a feeling you'd need help."

Elisif certainly did, there was no denying that now. Half of Skyrim essentially closed to her – Ulfric's troops would be on the lookout for any young redhaired Nord women on the road now – a Horn of Jurgen Windcaller to find, dragons to stop, a war to win... Elisif had no idea how she was supposed to deal with all this, she really didn't. She didn't even have a housecarl now.

"What about Jordis and Ria?" she whispered. "Did they make it?"

Aela reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry, Elisif. They killed Jordis. She fought bravely but there were too many of them."

Elisif could barely speak. Jordis, gone. Only twenty four, young, pretty, her whole life ahead of her and now she was gone, just like that. Elisif had really liked her too.

"And Ria?" she whispered, hoping that wasn't another death at her door. Ria was only twenty.

"She surrendered once she saw Jordis cut down and you gone. I think they took her prisoner. I don't know what they'll do with her."

Nothing good, Elisif was sure of that. Ulfric's forces weren't friendly to Imperials and Ria would never join them. It was a good thing Ria didn't know much – only that Elisif was Dragonborn... and that the Companions had been helping her, oh gods if Ulfric got that out of her...

"I can't go back to Jorrvaskr," Elisif realised, horrified. "If Ulfric finds out Ria's one of you and was helping me – I suppose Ria could say she was just hired for the job, or volunteered even after Kodlak told her not to get involved... oh but then he'll think she's an Imperial sympathiser!"

"She is an Imperial sympathiser," said Aela, faint smile on her lips. "She was horrified when war broke out, nearly ran off to join the Legion. Kodlak talked her out of it. Told us all there'd be precious little honour in this fight and that as there were too many among us on both sides, it was best if none of us went out to fight. I didn't agree but I do respect the old man, so I stayed."

"Which side would you have joined?" Elisif whispered. She didn't think Aela was a Stormcloak, not now anyway, but best to make sure. Aela actually laughed to herself.

"That was the other problem. I couldn't decide. I don't worship Talos, can't stand the Thalmor, but I don't like Ulfric's methods either. I guess I didn't care about the politics, I just wanted the glory and didn't care who I fought."

"And now?" Elisif asked. Aela did look up then, smiling gently at her and putting an arm around her.

"Now, little sister, you and I have a score to settle. That bastard's men killed my Shield-Brother. This is personal now. I'll help you any way I can."

Elisif could have cried, but she didn't think Aela would appreciate that. So instead, she settled for hugging her. To Elisif's surprise, Aela hugged her back, one warrior to another – one Shield-Sister to another. It felt good to have someone at her back, and Aela was a very capable seasoned warrior – and a werewolf. Shor's teeth, a werewolf! She'd not have expected that, but one of those on her side, that she could live with.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears in her eyes. Jordis and Skjor dead, Ria a Stormcloak prisoner – already this had claimed casualties. That Aela still wanted to help her after all this was welcome indeed, and Aela was far less likely to get herself killed.

"Don't thank me, we look after our own," said Aela. "Come on, let's get back to Jorrvaskr, break the news to Kodlak. Then it's time to plot our next move – do we have a next move? What did the Greybeards tell you?"

"I've got to go to the ruins of Ustengrav in Hjaalmarch. Imperial territory so at least Ulfric can't come in force there. Then I've got to retrieve some ancient artefact from there and bring it back to them."

"Sounds easy enough," said Aela, getting up and helping Elisif to her feet. "Come on, let's get going. There's rumours of vampires in this cave, and while I'm not afraid of them, fighting them right now would be inconvenient."

Elisif wasn't arguing. Glancing nervously at the cave mouth, she hurried after Aela.

* * *

A/N: Ria will be all right, don't worry. I feel so bad about Skjor and Jordis though, but Elisif was having it a little too easy. So now things just got that bit more serious.


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: Elisif's back behind Imperial lines and safe for now with Aela at her side, but she's still got the guilt and recriminations to deal with, not to mention finding the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Not an easy task, especially not when mysterious strangers start interfering and Elisif's not even sure she can trust her own side...

* * *

The two of them kept moving – there was a heartstopping moment when Stormcloak soldiers tried to stop them on the road, and then one of them recognised Aela and believed her when she told them she was just on her way back from a job in the Rift with her little sister Maia, newly recruited into the Companions and having been given the good weapons to make up for a relative lack of experience. Elisif just smiled sweetly and said nothing, and after a bit of banter between Aela and the soldiers, they let them both past. Then came Helgen, or what was left of it – Aela's arrows dealt with a few bandits that tried to attack them while Elisif Shouted a few off the walls with Unrelenting Force and somehow managed not to be sick afterwards. It was frightening just how used to all this death and blood she was getting.

Finally they got to Riverwood and the comfort of the Sleeping Giant Inn. Elisif had never been here before but apparently Aela was something of a regular.

"Don't worry, this place is safe," Aela reassured her. "I know Delphine, the innkeeper. She's a friend of mine. Used to me pitching up at odd hours in need of somewhere to rest. She's discreet. You can trust her."

Sure enough, despite the late hour, Delphine, a blonde Breton who might be late forties, early fifties perhaps, didn't bat an eyelid to see the two of them pitch up, Aela requesting beds for the night, food and a certain loss of memory regarding their presence here.

"Ran into trouble, did you?" Delphine asked, producing two bottles of mead for them and pocketing the gold Aela passed her, rather more than was warranted for two beds and some food.

"You might say that," said Aela grimly. "This is my little sister, Maia. She's decided to follow in my footsteps and join up at Jorrvaskr. We were out hunting in the Rift when we ran into the biggest camp of Stormcloaks I've ever seen."

Delphine glanced around the empty inn, devoid of anyone other than Orgnar the bartender who was pointedly not looking in their direction. She slid onto the bench opposite them, looking intrigued.

"Stormcloaks giving Companions of Jorrvaskr trouble?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "Now that does surprise me. Aren't you lot meant to be above politics, respected by all Nords?"

"They didn't realise we were Companions," said Elisif softly. "They thought we were working for the Empire."

"Why does that not surprise me," said Delphine, shaking her head sadly, face shadowed in the inn's dim lighting, the central fire burning down to embers. She looked thoughtfully at Maia, seeming curious. "So you're Aela's sister. She never mentioned one before."

"She's very protective of me," said Elisif, hoping Delphine would believe that. Something about the innkeeper told Elisif that this woman noticed everything and was a very good judge of people. Not uncommon traits in someone who ran an inn, but there was more to Delphine than met the eye, Elisif could tell. She seemed smart for one. Not to mention agile. She carried a dagger at her side, as did a lot of tradesmen and women, but Elisif had a feeling it wasn't just for show – that Delphine really knew how to use it.

"I don't doubt it," said Delphine, but she still looked thoughtful. As if she didn't entirely believe her or suspected there was some mystery yet to be solved. "So, Ulfric's making a move, is he? Hope he's not coming up the Helgen Pass, I'd hate to have the war come here. I just got this inn exactly how I want it, I don't need the Stormcloaks thinking we're all Empire-lovers and burning the place down."

"No, don't worry, he's not invading," Aela reassured her. "He was lying in wait at High Hrothgar for the Dragonborn. You've heard about the Dragonborn, I take it."

Again Delphine's eyes flicked to Elisif and now she was sure Delphine suspected something.

"I heard," Delphine said, her voice neutral. "Can't say I'm surprised. Ulfric's a determined man, he'd do anything to win a Dragonborn to his cause. Of course he'd lie in wait at Ivarstead, it's the first place a new Dragonborn would go. That new Dragonborn will need to take care, I imagine. Especially if the rumours about her being a person of importance are true. I imagine any number of people would want her for their own."

"I imagine they would," said Elisif, meeting Delphine's gaze and now she was sure Delphine had guessed who she was. Nothing they could do about it though, and Aela had said she was trustworthy. She could only hope she was right.

* * *

The return to Jorrvaskr had been as bad as Elisif had expected. Kodlak had been grieved indeed to hear of Skjor's death, as had everyone else, and Vilkas in particular had taken the news of Ria's capture badly.

"You should have given your life to defend her! As she would have given her life for you!" Vilkas snapped, fist hitting the table. Elisif flinched away, feeling tears in her eyes again. Fortunately Kodlak had intervened before things got out of hand.

"Vilkas, that's enough," Kodlak growled. "I know you cared about Ria, but she knew the risk when she left. At least she lives. I will think about what we can do, in the mean time stop blaming Maia, it's not her fault."

Vilkas had got up without a word and stalked out of the mead hall, presumably to go butcher some training dummies. Leaving Elisif sitting at the main table, despondently staring into the fire with tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one in particular. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, lass." That was Kodlak, taking a seat next to her, patting her shoulder as he did. "I grieve Skjor as do we all, but he died an honourable death."

"But he shouldn't have had to!" Elisif cried. "He was only there because of me, Jordis was only there because of me, _Ulfric_ was only there because of me! It's all my fault!"

"You did not choose this, lass," Kodlak said quietly. "This is not a path you would have walked had you had any say, I know. But nevertheless, you cannot turn back now, and it's not a path you can or should walk alone."

"But it'll get people killed," Elisif whispered, finally looking up at him. For all Kodlak was an imposing warrior, his eyes held nothing but kindness when they looked at her.

"Aye, that it might. It is a dangerous road you walk. But those who walk it with you know that. Let them choose to risk their lives or not. It's their right as warriors, girl. Let them seek glory in their own way."

Elisif didn't see anything particularly glorious in any of this, if she was honest, but if it meant Jordis and Skjor were in Sovngarde now – did werewolves go to Sovngarde? She didn't know, but Jordis had died so she could escape, sacrificed herself so she could go on to be Queen and Dragonborn. She owed it to Jordis' memory to at least try.

* * *

The day started off badly when Elisif found out Farkas and Vilkas were coming part of the way. They had some job to do in Eastmarch, apparently. Elisif didn't ask what, and neither twin said. Mercifully, while Vilkas was still cool towards Elisif, he at least didn't seem angry any more. Just grim and determined. It was something at least, and when they got out of Whiterun and were attacked by a dragon, she was glad of the help. When they were attacked by a second dragon, just north of Loreius Farm, she was really glad of the help. Not to mention the sabre cat, the wolves, the ice wraith... About the only bright spot of the entire journey was the odd little man in the jester outfit trying to transport his mother's coffin home, and while Aela and Vilkas both shot wary looks at him and kept their distance, Elisif listened sympathetically and, outraged at the farmer's refusal to help poor, stranded Cicero, went to have a word with him. Five minutes of Elisif telling him off for his inhospitality, with Farkas standing at her shoulder with a glare on his face and his arms folded, and Vantus Loreius was soon fixing the cart for him. Cicero cooed with delight, telling Elisif she was such a kind lady, such a sweet lady to help poor Cicero and his dear mother so and presented her with a large purse of gold.

"But I can't take all this!" Elisif protested. "This must be half your coin purse!"

"Oh, Cicero does not need a lot in the way of coin," Cicero purred. "Cicero has only himself and Mother to look after, and Mother doesn't need feeding. What with being dead and all."

Elisif sighed and accepted the gold, splitting it with Farkas who had after all helped with the whole persuasion effort. Cicero cooed after them, babbling that if he ever ran into them again, he would surely remember their kindness. Elisif wished him well, Farkas gave the little man a thumbs up, and then the four of them were moving again.

"You and your damn bleeding heart," Vilkas growled.

"I had to help him!" Elisif protested. "He'd have been there for hours otherwise!"

"Not you," Vilkas snapped. "I know you're a sucker for a sob story." He smacked his brother on the arm. "Why did you have to get involved, eh? Don't you have more sense?"

"He was a man in trouble!" said Farkas, shrugging. "Had to help a fellow out, didn't I?"

"Sucker for a pretty face, is what you are," Vilkas muttered, and that was a bit odd, Cicero wasn't a girl although he wasn't bad looking, Elisif supposed, if you could ignore the hat and that he was clearly a bit simple-minded.

"Hey, that's not why I helped!" Farkas sighed. "Although he is cute. Don't know if he's into men though, and wasn't about to make moves on him here either."

Oh, so Farkas liked men as well as, or possibly instead of women. Elisif hadn't realised – he didn't seem the type. Vilkas didn't seem to care, and Aela hadn't batted an eyelid, so Elisif guessed it wasn't a secret among the Companions – just not considered anything worth worrying about.

"He's insane," Vilkas sighed. "Brother, we have had this conversation before. No lunatics. I don't care how pretty they are."

Farkas pouted but said nothing more, and the four of them pressed on. Farkas and Vilkas said goodbye at the junction, heading east for Windhelm and Eastmarch, while Aela and Elisif went west. Fort Dunstad was a bit of an obstacle, but survival and a need to press on took precedence over honour and as with Helgen, they skirted round rather than fighting the bandits inhabiting it.

After that, the road was quiet, just the odd frostbite spider or wolf to deal with, and finally the snow plains of the Pale gave way to Hjaalmarch's forests, and Morthal came in sight. A night spent at the inn there, and a few questions to the innkeeper revealed that there were no Stormcloak troops around. Something to be thankful for at least.

So it was that Elisif and Aela found Ustengrav the next morning. The place was quiet. Too quiet. There'd clearly been a battle recently though – the bodies of bandits and necromancers and a couple of Stormcloak scouts were lying around. The Stormcloaks didn't even look like they'd been dead long.

"Do you – do you think they all killed each other?" Elisif asked as Aela stripped the bodies of gold and valuables. Aela shook her head.

"No. None of these bled to death, they all died fairly quickly. Whoever won this fight, they either left – or they're inside."

Not reassuring. Elisif clutched her axe, hoping that whoever had won, they'd got fed up and gone away.

Alas, she was to be disappointed. Inside were more dead bandits, and some live necromancers with undead thralls, both of whom fell quickly to Aela's bow, and then more necromancers engaged in pitched battle with Draugr.

After those were dealt with came the rest of the ruin. It was strangely quiet – sure there were a few Draugr and skeletons wandering around, but also quite a few dead ones. Almost as if someone had been here before. Had one of the necromancers got ahead of them? Elisif hoped not.

There was loot to be had, and another Word Wall, and then a set of gates that Elisif had to Shout to get past, and then fire traps and spiders and finally a big chamber where dragon statues rose from the water to greet them.

"Impressive," Aela murmured.

"Creepy," Elisif whispered back, axes in hand, just waiting for the inevitable Draugr to burst out from somewhere. None did.

At the end of the room was a tomb with a hand on top of it. A hand that looked like it should be holding something... but wasn't.

"Is that it?" Aela asked, frowning. "Where's the Horn?"

"It's not here," Elisif said, heart racing. "But it must be here, it has to be, gods dammit, Aela, where is my bloody Horn?"

Aela didn't answer. She'd looked up, looked over Elisif's shoulder and was staring angrily at the doorway at the back of the room.

"I believe you're looking for this?"

Slowly, Elisif turned around. She knew that voice. Recognised the High Rock accent, not heard often in Skyrim but Elisif knew a fellow Wayrest native when she heard one.

"What in Oblivion are you doing here?" Elisif snapped, turning around to face the Riverwood innkeeper lounging in the doorway. Delphine just smiled, stepped out of the darkness and pulled her hood back, grinning. She was wearing a set of battered but well-crafted leather armour and an unusual looking curved sword at her waist that Elisif hadn't seen before. She also had the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller in her hand.

"Delphine, you'd better have a very good explanation for this," said Aela warily. "How did you even know...?"

"How you'd be here?" Delphine asked, looking almost unbearably smug by this point. "I knew the Greybeards would send you here if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable."

Elisif felt her heart sink, fear prickling down her spine. Was she really that obvious?

"How did you know?" she whispered, heartbroken. "How...?"

Delphine actually looked sympathetic as she approached.

"Aela's thirty five. You're not more than twenty five if that. Aela's mother died in the Great War, and she left to fight in it when it broke out. She certainly didn't leave a baby behind her. Aela doesn't have a younger sister... but I can think of one young, redhaired Nord who might be travelling High Hrothgar way just lately and who Aela of all people might be willing to lie to protect." Delphine tilted her head, eyes looking at Elisif in wonder. "The rumours are really true, aren't they? You're Jarl Elisif."

No sense hiding it now. Elisif looked up, meeting the older woman's gaze.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, I'm Jarl Elisif of Solitude. True High Queen of Skyrim... and Dragonborn. I'd know your reason for coming after me. You didn't come all this way for nothing."

"No, she really didn't," Aela growled, hand flexing on her dagger hilt. "Who are you, Delphine, really? I knew you had some sort of warrior past, but thought you were just a war veteran who'd retired to run an inn. Now I don't think you're any more an innkeeper than I am!"

"I'm an innkeeper all right, just ask Orgnar," Delphine laughed. "But I'm not exactly retired – well, not since that dragon flew over Riverwood the day Helgen got hit anyway. I'm part of a group that's been looking for Elisif here – well, someone like her anyway – for a long time."

Elisif really didn't like the sound of that.

"What sort of group?" she asked, suspicions not allayed in the slightest. "What do you want with me?"

"I want to know if you really are Dragonborn, for a start," said Delphine. "You'll forgive me if I'm not entirely convinced just yet, even if there's not many other reasons for the Jarl of Solitude of all people to be poking around down here."

"I took a dragon's soul _in the middle of Solitude!_" Elisif cried. "I don't think there's a lot of doubt about it by this time! It's not the sort of thing someone could fake!"

"Yes, I know but I can't entirely rule out a Thalmor plot," said Delphine, sounding quite reasonable for someone Elisif was now convinced was completely insane.

"What have the Thalmor got to do with anything?" Elisif asked, bewildered.

"What aren't they involved in, you mean?" Delphine snorted. "Look, here's the deal. I'm trying to find out why the dragons came back and how to stop them. I don't know who's behind it but my best guess is the Thalmor. I certainly can't rule out them spreading the rumour of a returned Dragonborn to flush me out of hiding."

"Why would the Thalmor want you?" Elisif asked, narrowing her eyes.

"We're very old enemies," Delphine replied. "But that's not important. What is important is that you might be Dragonborn."

"I am Dragonborn!" Elisif snapped, and there it was, the rage coming back as something howled dragon-like within her. How dare they doubt her, _how dare they?_

"Well then, you won't mind proving it to me, will you?" Delphine said, looking far too cocky for her own good.

"Would Shouting you halfway to Dawnstar prove it?" Elisif growled, taking a step forward, hand to her axe. Delphine did at least back off, hands raised, and Aela placed a hand on Elisif's shoulder.

"Elisif. She's not attacked yet and up until now, I've never had reason to doubt her. At least hear her out."

While Elisif didn't share Aela's confidence, the other woman did have a point. Elisif let her axe go and folded her arms.

"Start talking then. What do you want from me?" Elisif snapped. Delphine relaxed a little, holding out the Horn to her.

"I'm not your enemy, Elisif. Here, the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, take it. Give it to the Greybeards, let them do what they want. All I ask is that you trust me and come with me."

"Trust you?" Elisif could barely believe her ears. "I don't even know you! I thought you were just an innkeeper and it turns out you're some sort of fugitive from the law."

"You weren't even going by your true name when I first met you," Delphine retorted. "From what I hear, you're over at the Thalmor Embassy every couple of months cosying up to Elenwen. How do I know you're not going to sell me out to them yourself?"

A tempting thought, but Elisif wasn't one to turn someone over to the authorities without at least some proof of actual wrongdoing. Delphine had at least handed the Horn over in the end, and any help trying to stop the dragons was welcome.

"Just tell me what you want," Elisif sighed. "You said you were trying to stop the dragons and find out where they came from. Did you get anywhere?"

"Not as far as I'd have liked but likely further than anyone else has done," said Delphine, warming to her subject. "You see, dragons weren't gone somewhere all these years. They were dead, killed off. They're not just coming back, they're coming back to life."

To life? Dragon necromancy? Who would do that? Who _could_ do that? Elisif recalled what Delphine had said earlier about the Thalmor possibly being involved and while Elisif didn't want to believe it, it would take immense magical ability to bring dragons back from the dead. The ones she'd seen weren't reanimated corpses either, they were fully living creatures. Elisif had no idea where you'd even start with a feat like that, but the Thalmor might. There were powerful wizards on Alinor who might know all sorts of obscure lore – but why here? Why now?

Well, the war might explain that. Hadn't the first attack been at Helgen, right as they were going to execute Ulfric? He'd be dead if not for the dragons. Elisif fought back a wave of revulsion at the memory of her last encounter with the man. Dragons coming back, possible Thalmor involvement due to wanting the war to continue (a bit far-fetched but not impossible), her husband's murderer at large still, her country being ravaged... and her being Dragonborn. She didn't think this was a coincidence.

"Do you know what's causing it?" she asked. Delphine clearly knew something or she wouldn't be here asking for help.

"Not yet. But I think I know how to find out," Delphine told her, producing something from her pocket, a roll of paper. A map of Skyrim, with several markings all over it, the ones on the right hand side crossed out.

"Dragon burial mounds," Delphine explained. "From the Dragonstone you found for me – thank you by the way, I was starting to think I'd have to go in there myself. I've been to a few of them, had reports from all the Jarls' stewards on dragon activity. It started in the Rift, it's worst in the east. Someone or something is opening dragon burial mounds and it started in the south east, down near Riften. I've been tracking the mounds that have been opened so far. If the pattern holds, the next one is the one to the west of Dawnstar. It's not more than a few hours from here – if we leave now, we can find out what's going on and maybe even stop it. That's why I came here in person instead of just leaving a note. That and I wasn't sure the Jarl of Solitude wouldn't be here without half the Haafingar Guard and the Legion, with a few Thalmor observers along for the ride. At least with that lot I could see you coming and run. Damned if I'm leaving a note for the Thalmor telling them where I am."

She really was quite obsessed with the Thalmor. Worrying, if Elisif was honest. The Thalmor weren't popular, no, but they'd always been perfectly respectful to her. Why they'd be interested in a simple innkeeper was beyond Elisif – but by this time, she was also starting to realise Delphine was far more than that. She'd just have to bide her time and wait for Delphine to trust her enough to tell her what this was really about.

Elisif had a feeling she could be waiting a long time.

* * *

Snow was coming down as they trekked over the marsh, skirting the Stormcloak camp but also avoiding the Imperial camp Elisif knew was out there, much to her dismay. She could do with a good meal, warm bed and hot fire to sit by rather than be out in this. But Delphine didn't think it was a good idea, so off they went in the other direction as the aurora blazed above them in the night sky.

"Are we there yet?" Elisif whispered, hating to sound like a brat, but she'd never before realised just how big Skyrim was. It always seemed to take hours to get anywhere, especially off-road.

"Nearly," Delphine called back. "Just a bit further, over this hill and..."

The biggest dragon that any of them had ever seen swooped overhead, black scales gleaming in the moonlight as it blotted out the stars, coming to circle over what proved to be the dragon mound.

"Get down!" Aela cried, ducking behind a rock as she took aim with her bow. Elisif and Delphine joined, Delphine staring at the black dragon in amazement.

"Lorkhan's eyes. Look at it, it's huge!"

"_Kriiloknah! Ziil Dovah ulse!_"

Elisif recognised the word dovah, but didn't understand any of the rest of it. The black dragon's wings sent cold air whipping through her and she was cold and scared and just wanted this to stop now please. She didn't feel like a mighty Dragonborn right now, she wanted to turn and run for Solitude or that Legion camp nearby and not stop until she was safe.

"You do not even understand our tongue, do you?" the dragon growled, sounding almost like it was laughing. "So arrogant, to claim for yourself the name of Dovah."

It knew. That damn beast knew she was here, knew what she was and sweet Kynareth she was no match for it at all. She was going to die, right here, right now and about the only consolation was that at least she'd see Torygg again...

"No matter," the dragon growled. "You will not stop this. You are weak, joor. I will leave you to your fate because you are not worth the bother of killing personally. In the mean time... _Slen Tiid Vo!_"

The dragon mound exploded, stone flying everywhere as a pillar of dark magic soared into the sky. Elisif looked up from the crouch she'd dropped into as another dragon roared in response, and she froze in horror to see a skeletal dragon emerging from the ruined mound.

"Gods above, it's worse than I thought," she heard Delphine breathe, and Aela wasn't even wasting time on words. She'd already lifted her bow and fired off an arrow, then another.

"_Kriiloknah! Krii daar joorre!_" the black dragon snarled and wheeled off. Fire was burning all along the skeletal dragon and Elisif realised in horror that its very flesh was reforming.

"Talos take you!" she heard Delphine shout, firing off a few shots herself and Elisif reached for her bow, heart in her mouth. She'd fought a dragon before and not died. How hard could it be?

Harder than she'd imagined, it turned out. Her arrows went wide, even Aela's weren't sinking in that deep, and then the thing took off, howling its rage out. Elisif shrieked as she dodged a jet of fire. Last time she'd had a housecarl, four Companions and the Whiterun guard. This time it was one Companion, one Breton warrior and her. Just her.

Kriiloknah soared round again, dodging all the arrows sent its way, sending a jet of fire in Delphine's direction, and then it landed, staring straight at her. Elisif stared back, feeling the blood drain from her face, knowing she'd get one shot in maximum before it struck and that this was a terrible idea, she should have stayed in Solitude, taken Falk up on his elite dragon squad idea where others killed them and she just took the soul. _I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die..._

"For the glory of the Empire!" Arrows flew at the dragon and it turned its attention to this new threat. Elisif could have wept to see a whole troop of Legion soldiers rush in from what must be the Pale's Legion camp, firing arrows and surrounding the dragon, trying to get blows in. The dragon was having none of it – it might be bleeding but that didn't stop it picking one man up in its mouth, chewing him up and flinging the corpse away, before turning its fire breath on a small knot of soldiers.

Something in Elisif snapped, some fury at the thing treating innocent human beings like that, innocent human beings who were fighting for her when all was said and done. She reached for her greatsword.

"WULD!" She covered the distance between her and the dragon easily and carved a line deep into its flesh, marvelling at how easily the scales seemed to part for her. _I will kill you, dragon, you will hurt no more of my people and if you kill me, so what? I just get to go to Sovngarde and see Torygg again, so you do NOT frighten me! _Screaming, she carved into it, not a lot of finesse involved but when you had an enchanted greatsword at your disposal, you didn't really need it. She wasn't really aware of anything else, just blood and noise and the rest of the world fading away and then fire, why was there fire?

Aela had grabbed her shoulders, hauling her back, hauling her away from the thing's burning corpse.

"You did it, you did it, well done, it's dead, you can stop now, you can stop!"

Elisif lowered her weapon, slowly realising it was dead and everyone was staring at her, Aela, Delphine, all those Legionnaires and oh gods, that was Legate Rikke herself at their head, they'd just seen her kill a dragon like it was nothing out of the ordinary, seen her turn into some screaming lunatic before their eyes.

Then the dragon's soul boiled up out of it, sank into her and she felt the draconic part of herself answering, jaws reaching out to swallow it whole.

Elisif slowly looked up to see concern on Aela's face, amazement and pride on Delphine's, and then she saw the Legionnaires. Several had just dropped to their knees in stunned amazement and they all were looking at her like she was some sort of goddess.

"Dragonborn!"

"High Queen!"

"It's true!"

"She took its very soul..."

Slowly, Elisif turned to Rikke, feeling more afraid now than when she'd been facing the dragon. At least the dragon hadn't been treating her like a goddess and its intentions had been perfectly clear. She had no idea what lay behind Rikke's smile.

"Jarl Elisif. There you are, we found you at last. My spies brought word of our camp in the Rift destroyed, Ulfric mobilising troops personally at Ivarstead. I can imagine why. We've been searching all over for you. What are you doing up here?"

"I – just – was looking for something," said Elisif nervously, not sure what to say. While she'd always liked Rikke, she wasn't entirely sure she trusted her. Rikke was loyal but she wasn't sworn to Elisif, was she? "But I found it, so I'll just be on my way..."

"On your way?" Rikke asked, eyebrow raised. "You're just going to wander Skyrim on your own? I don't think so! I'm not letting our best asset go unprotected like that. Jarl Elisif, since the story started getting around about you being Dragonborn, Legion recruitment's gone through the roof. Undecided Nords, apolitical Nords, Nords who didn't care, some who even were leaning towards Ulfric, they've all heard that you're Dragonborn and they've all come to fight for you, their Dragonborn Queen. Come with me, Elisif. We'll give you guards, take you to visit the camps, rally the troops, get them fired up to kill some Stormcloaks, get a few dragons killed before their eyes. What do you say?"

Absolutely not, was Elisif's reaction. Deep inside, she could feel a dragon's rage building up again, fury at being kept in a gilded cage, a pet to be paraded out when the Empire felt like it, killing dragons who'd likely already been nearly killed anyway. What sort of life was that for a Dovah? No life at all, was what it was. Better dead than chained.

"I am the true High Queen," Elisif gasped. "I go where I want." She just had time to take in the stunned look on Rikke's face before sanity and reason kicked in and she realised what she'd just said to the Imperial second-in-command. Without even pausing, she turned and fled across the snow, using Whirlwind Sprint to put it all behind her.

"Legate, should we go after her?" one of the men asked Rikke. She shook her head wearily.

"No, let her go. She's done nothing wrong and you can't force a Nord to accept help she hasn't asked for," Rikke sighed. "I'll just have the camps on alert in case she passes their way and does need somewhere to stay for a while. It's actually better for morale this way, the troops will take courage from their Dragonborn Queen being out there in the field fighting dragons to keep Skyrim safe. You there!" She pointed at Aela and Delphine. "Are you her friends?"

Both women nodded cautiously. Rikke didn't know the Breton but the Nord looked familiar – one of the Companions, if Rikke remembered correctly. Good, Elisif would have some help at least.

"Then I suggest you get after her. She's headed straight for Stormcloak territory, if they get their hands on her..."

Neither woman needed telling twice. Both Nord and Breton took off after the errant High Queen, leaving Rikke staring at a dead dragon and wondering just what the world was coming to.


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: Elisif's flight into the wilderness leads to another adventure and a new friend... and once she's back in Solitude, she needs all the friends she can get.

A/N: A bit of a filler chapter but it does do a lot to set up the next part of the story arc.

* * *

Elisif hadn't stopped running, using Whirlwind Sprint and her own stamina before finally she exhausted both and had to stop. And promptly realised she was lost, with no idea where she was or what direction she was heading in. Only that there was no one around and it was dark and late and... Elisif shivered in the cold and decided to press on. As long as she kept moving.

She finally found a road and followed it and before long it led to a town. A fishing village by the sea, with a ruined tower overlooking the place. Dawnstar. She'd just walked right into a Stormcloak town.

Fortunately, it seemed word hadn't got out this far yet, because the guards barely spared her a second glance. Elisif glanced down at once-shiny but now bloodstained and battered armour, realising she now looked nothing like a queen and everything like the mercenary she'd claimed to be at first. Time to be Maia again and hope this worked.

The first inkling she got that something was up was one of the guards warning her about nightmares. The second hint were the terrified miners in the inn pleading with a priest of Mara to help them. Huh. Mara. Once Elisif's favourite of the Eight as she'd prayed for a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet as a girl, and then she'd grown up and it had happened.

Then Ulfric Stormcloak had killed him and while she'd made offerings to the Eight after he died, she wasn't sure she could ever really bring herself to believe in Mara again. So she ordered a drink and some food and listened.

"But it's the same dream every night! How can that be natural?"

"Patience, my daughter. Just have faith in Lady Mara and she will protect you all."

Faith? Elisif had had faith once, but Torygg was still dead. Where had Lady Mara been then, hmm?

The miners seemed reassured and left, and the priest sat down at the table next to her. Elisif risked a look over at him. Now that the townsfolk had gone, his confidence seemed to have evaporated. In fact, he looked terrified and a little guilty. Elisif felt a little bit sorry for him and began to realise priests were human like anyone else (or mer in this man's case), they just had to sound confident in their gods to reassure everyone else. Just like a Queen or Jarl had to sound like they knew what they were doing too. Well, she could certainly empathise there.

"Excuse me," she began. "I couldn't help but overhear you talking with those townsfolk. Is everything all right?"

* * *

_"__He's deceiving you. When the ritual is complete, Erandur will take the Skull for himself and turn on you. Kill him. Kill him and the Skull is yours!"_

Elisif silently tightened her grip on her greatsword. Did the Daedra really think she was born yesterday? If Erandur did turn on her, one Shout would stagger him and her greatsword would probably make short work of him, but until he attacked her, she wasn't going to listen to otherworldly voices, thank you very much.

So she watched and waited, and Mara's power turned the Skull of Corruption into ash. Erandur lowered his hands and Elisif finally sheathed her blade. That had been an adventure and a half, and without Erandur's magic backing her up, she was sure she'd not have made it. As it was, it had been close on a number of occasions, and then there had been that terrifying Dreamstride. On the other hand, she now had a big collection of unusual alchemy ingredients to play with.

"Is that it?" she asked. "It's all over?"

Erandur nodded, but he didn't look happy considering they'd just saved Dawnstar.

"Yes, Maia my friend, it's done. Dawnstar will be safe now."

"You don't look pleased. Are you all right?" Elisif asked, concerned. Erandur smiled sadly, glancing at Theren and Vorek's bodies.

"In time, I will be. For now, it's enough to know I did Lady Mara's will. Listen, I..." He looked a bit hesitant, and Elisif wondered what was up. There wasn't anything more he could want from her, was there?

"I was going to spend the rest of my days here, in prayer and meditation to Lady Mara," Erandur said. "I still need to stay here and do the rites for Veren and Thorek and the others. But after that... I believe I would like to offer my services to you. If you ever decide you need me, I'll be here."

"What, really?" Elisif whispered. "You'd leave all this behind and just travel Skyrim with me? You don't know the first thing about me!" _You don't even know my real name!_

"Maybe not, but I know you're a woman of character and integrity who's willing to risk her own life to help other people," said Erandur knowingly. "That's worth something in my book."

"I don't think I believe in Mara any more," Elisif confessed, feeling it was probably best to air that right now. Erandur just smiled sympathetically.

"I know it can be hard to remember her teachings when love's left your life and doesn't look like it's coming back. But have faith. Mara won't have forgotten you and she can bring love when you least expect it. Right now, you're embodying her lessons anyway, so don't think I'm going to bother you with lectures. You didn't try to kill me for having made mistakes in my youth, I'm not going to hold it against you if you need to consider your spiritual path."

Elisif had a lot more things to consider first over whether she still believed in the Aedra or not, but all the same, it was nice to know he wasn't judging her.

"Thank you," she told him, finally feeling something close to cheerful. "I feel I should warn you my life isn't a safe one. People have already died because of me."

"People suffered because of me too," said Erandur, voice low. "You volunteered to do this with me knowing it was dangerous, I'll happily go with you in the same knowledge."

Good to know. Elisif just had one last question.

"You're, er, not a Stormcloak, are you? I mean, I don't think so, what with you being Dunmer and all, but I have to ask..."

Erandur did grin at that. "Maia, as a priest of Mara, I am above politics. I bring Mara's aid to whoever needs it, regardless of their political affiliations. I'm guessing you're on the Empire's side in the war."

"You could say that, yes," said Elisif, wondering if and when to tell him her real identity. Not yet, she decided. Not that she didn't trust him, but at least if he got captured too he couldn't tell Ulfric who she was if he didn't know.

"Well, that's your decision and I will respect that," said Erandur calmly. "Given how the Dunmer in Ulfric's city are treated, I can't say I'm even unhappy about it, but Stormcloaks are people too."

"I know," said Elisif, not needing to be reminded of that. Not just people, but her people, even if they did want Ulfric rather than her. Still, Rikke had said some Nords who'd previously been inclined to Ulfric had changed sides on hearing she was Dragonborn. Maybe she'd convince more of them yet.

* * *

She opened the door and stepped out of Nightcaller Temple to broad daylight. By the Eight, had she really been up all night? Elisif stifled a yawn. She was so tired. Back to Dawnstar, be sure to stay out of the Jarl's way, find the inn and then bed. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

"There you are. We've been looking all over the Pale for you."

Aela. And behind her, Delphine. Elisif felt her heart sink. She'd actually enjoyed being on her own. It was something of a rarity. Queens didn't often get much privacy. Dragonborn Queens even less, she was beginning to discover.

"Well, you found me," Elisif sighed. "Here I am. What do you want? More to the point, Delphine, who are you? What do you want? I killed that dragon, took its soul, said no to Rikke when she tried to recruit me to the war effort. What more do you need?"

Delphine had the grace to look a bit sheepish. "I admit, you convinced me," she said with a smile. "Not just Dragonborn, you're more than the Imperial puppet I thought you were too. All right, I'm sure this isn't a Thalmor plot. So, you wanted to know who I am. Well, I'm one of the last of the Blades. Maybe even the last."

The Blades... the old bodyguards of the Septims themselves? Surely not.

"But weren't they disbanded years ago?" she gasped. Delphine nodded, smile fading.

"Yes. We've not been Imperial bodyguards since the Oblivion Crisis, but we've been out there, watching out for another Dragonborn to guide and guard, as we are sworn to do."

"Oh," Elisif whispered, trying to think of a coherent response and failing. The Blades were actually protectors of Dragonborns. Well, that made sense of a lot of things. Why they were Talos-worshippers and had protected his bloodline. Why they'd disbanded after the war, been disbanded rather. Elisif had never really thought about it before. "No wonder the Thalmor hate you."

"They do," Delphine confirmed. "And it's quite mutual. But they haven't found me yet. Which is good because now the dragons have come back, we're needed. You're needed, Dragonborn."

"To kill them," Elisif whispered. Delphine nodded.

"Just so."

This was too much to take in. The Blades still existed – well, one of them anyway. And they were sworn to guard Dragonborns. Her own little troop of bodyguards – sort of. If she could find a secure base for them all and a few recruits – after all, they were technically a banned organisation.

"So what now?" Elisif asked. "What do you know about the dragons coming back?"

"Nothing," Delphine admitted. "I was just as surprised as you to find that black dragon here. I honestly thought it'd be the Thalmor. Dragons raising dragons... it's bad."

"Beyond bad," said Aela softly. "No wonder they keep coming back after we kill them. Anyone other than a Dragonborn kills them, that black dragon or another with similar powers can just raise them from the dead."

"I know, which is why we need to find out how to stop them," said Delphine, racking her brains. "I still think our best lead is the Thalmor. They have the best information-gathering network in Tamriel, they must know something. We'll need to infiltrate their Embassy."

"What?" Elisif cried. "Hold on a second! That's suicide! We'll be killed! And if I'm implicated, it's more than just my life on the line. They'll think it's an act of war!"

"I hope you're not expecting me to do it either," said Aela, arms folded. "I'm not exactly high society material, they'll know I don't belong there."

"I know," said Delphine, gritting her teeth, not looking pleased but not seeing many options. "Let me think about this. Elisif. You're on the guest list for those parties Elenwen throws on a regular basis, right?"

"Yes, but – oh no," Elisif protested. "Oh no, I am not going to one and infiltrating the Embassy that way, no way!"

"No, no," Delphine reassured her. "You'll be there all right, as yourself, but you won't have to do anything terribly dangerous or illegal. You'll just be there to cause a distraction while someone else does the sneaking around."

"And who's that going to be? You?" Elisif asked. Delphine seemed to find that hilarious.

"No, that would be worse than you doing it. I'd attract the wrong kind of attention. No, you leave that to me. I have an old contact who can probably find me someone. You just get that Horn back to the Greybeards then get yourself back to Solitude. Have a break from dragonslaying, just be a Jarl for a bit. Then go to that Thalmor party and be prepared to cause a distraction for whoever I'm able to get. Don't know who that'll be exactly, but anyone who comes up to you and mentions the 30th of Frostfall, that's your guy. Or girl."

"30th of Frostfall, right," Elisif repeated to herself. "All right. I'll let you organise it all. Just know that I can't be implicated in this in any way. A distraction, fine. But other than that, your agent is on their own."

Delphine nodded, understanding. "Don't worry, I know the score," Delphine promised. "Your reputation shall remain above reproach. I'll see you again after all this goes down with whatever I learned. Aela, make sure she gets home all right, hmm?"

With that, Delphine was gone, sprinting south, presumably headed for Riverwood to plot out her next move. Elisif sidled up to Aela, finally free to discuss Delphine rather more frankly.

"Aela," Elisif began. "What did we just sign up to?"

"We?" Aela queried as they made for Dawnstar. "You're going to be taking this one on, not me. After I've got you to High Hrothgar and back, and packed you off to Solitude, I'm going back to Whiterun for a bit. I need to make sure Kodlak's managing – with the twins away and Skjor gone, I can't leave Jorrvaskr for long."

Understandable, although Elisif had to wonder just how long this mysterious job of theirs in Eastmarch was going on for. She'd miss Aela though. She'd miss the whole travelling experience. Going back to Solitude and waiting for something to happen felt an awful lot like prison bars descending around her again.

* * *

Bored. Bored. Bored. Three days back in Solitude and already Elisif was ready to stab her eyes out for something to do. There'd been the settling in, a long hot bath, decent meal, an excellent night's sleep in her own bed – then back to Jarling. Or at least, trying to. That was if Falk would let her actually make a decision ever.

After getting her cleaned and mended armour and her sharpened weapons back off Beirand (and heading down there in person had been a battle in itself), she'd taken to wearing her armour while presiding at court, circlet on her head and ebony war axe at her waist. Much to Falk's displeasure.

"My Jarl, is it strictly necessary to wear that in your courtroom? No one's going to assassinate you here."

"Torygg thought the same and look at him," Elisif snapped, hoping that would shut him up. Not this time, it appeared.

"Ulfric isn't coming here to challenge you, Jarl," said Falk gently, as if he was talking to a frightened child, and Elisif felt that dragon rage building up again, the urge to send a Shout his way and teach him the error of his ways. "There's no need to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" Elisif shouted. "Ulfric's the one who should be afraid!"

She could swear Falk actually flinched away, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Erikur smirking and whispering something to that Altmer bodyguard of his, Melaran. She took a deep breath to calm down and reminded herself she was not actually allowed to kill her thanes or her steward without good cause and evidence of serious wrongdoing. More was the pity.

"Of course he should be," Falk said, regaining his composure. "I'm sure General Tullius will bring him to justice soon."

Elisif gritted her teeth. One of these days, she'd do something so impressive, so spectacularly heroic they would all have to finally respect her. _I killed dragons! I've survived three dangerous Nord ruins full of Draugr! I took on a temple full of Orc warriors and Daedra-worshippers! I'm quite capable of dealing with Ulfric one on one!_ Well. Maybe not quite yet. But she knew all of that Shout now, Unrelenting Force. Did Ulfric actually know any others? She had no idea, but he probably didn't know many. She might already be better than him at the Thu'um. And no one here seemed to care.

"Who approaches the true High Queen?" Elisif sat up as her housecarl interrupted a petitioner. Elisif recognised him as Varnius of Dragon Bridge, just a simple farmer but for him to come here, it must be important.

"Let him come," Elisif called, glad of the distraction. "I'll hear him. Varnius Junius, isn't it? How is Dragon Bridge?"

"The town – the town is well, my Jarl," Varnius began, wringing his hands. "But – but there's a cave nearby, Wolfskull Cave."

Elisif had heard of it. It was said to have been used by Potema the Wolf Queen herself for her necromantic rituals. Ever since there'd been rumours it was haunted, but nothing had ever been found there. Probably this was nothing terribly serious... but the poor man looked terrified.

"What about the cave?" Elisif asked. "Have beasts or bandits taken residence?"

"I don't know, my Jarl," Varnius cried. "I've not been inside to find out. But there's lights at night and strange noises. My Jarl, I think there are unnatural magics at work!"

Dark magic. Less than ten miles from Solitude. Elisif didn't like the sound of this, not at all. Something about this whole situation was off.

"Don't worry, Varnius," she reassured him. "I'll arrange for troops to head out there immediately and scour the cave. Haafingar's people will always be safe under my rule."

Of course, her court couldn't let that one go for a second.

"Eminence, my scrying has suggested nothing in the area," Sybille interrupted. "This is likely just pure superstition."

"Perhaps a more tempered approach might be called for?" Falk added, and Elisif would be tempering him in a minute if he didn't _shut up_. The poor man was terrified! Whether it was nerves from coming to see the Jarl herself, or terror of what was in that cave, Elisif wasn't sure, but for one to outweigh the other... no, this needed seeing to.

"Falk, tell Captain Aldis to assign more men to Dragon Bridge," said Elisif, considering her options. Not many with the war on – the Haafingar Guard was stretched as it was.

"And – and the cave, my lady?" Varnius asked, staring up at her, beseeching her for help. Help that might never come if her steward had his way.

"I will send someone to take care of the cave as well, you can rest easy, Varnius," Falk was saying, and Elisif finally decided she'd had enough.

"I'll go," said Elisif, getting to her feet. "If there's a threat to my people in my own Hold, I should investigate, surely?"

"Jarl, you cannot be serious!" Falk cried. Oh good, the inevitable protests. Did Balgruuf and Igmund have these problems? She was willing to bet Ulfric never did.

"I'm perfectly serious!" she snapped. She turned back to Varnius, really rather liking the awe that had filled his eyes. "Don't worry, Varnius, I'll deal with it. I promise you I won't let whatever's in there harm my people."

"Thank you, Jarl," Varnius whispered, bowing as he backed away. "You're – you're too kind, my lady." Nerves getting the better of him, he turned and ran. Well that had gone well. Just Falk to deal with now.

"Elisif. This has gone far enough. Ever since you got back from High Hrothgar, you've been..."

"Been what, Falk?" Elisif snapped, turning to face him full on. "Unruly? Defiant? Acting like a spoilt child? Go on, say it, I know it's what you're thinking!"

"Angry," said Falk quietly. "And gods know you've got every right to be, you're grieving after all. I just think you're letting the whole Dragonborn thing go to your head, that's all. You need to calm down, think these things over..."

"I don't need to -!" Elisif stopped, reining in her temper before she gave him even more arrows to shoot with. "Look, it needs dealing with, we can't spare the guards, I've dealt with dangerous Nord ruins and wild animals before, so I'll go. It's fine, Falk, you can stop worrying."

"When have you been down dangerous Nord ruins?" Erikur called over to her, laughter in his voice. "You've been stuck up in a monastery all this time!"

Elisif fingered her axe, once again reminding herself that mere rudeness was not deserving of an axe in the skull. Unfortunately.

"I have been down three Nord barrows, killed two dragons and a frost troll, four Stormcloak soldiers _on my own, _and survived an entire temple full of Daedra-worshippers!" Elisif growled, taking savage delight from Falk's little cry of horror. "I think I can cope with one cave!"

"Elisif, don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" Sybille purred. Oh good, now the court mage was getting in on the act. "There's almost certainly nothing there but a few wild animals."

"Then I'm sure I'm more than up to the job," said Elisif, getting really quite tired of this.

"But what if there is something there?" Falk cried. "You could be killed!"

"If it's really dangerous, it's my duty to investigate, isn't it?" said Elisif, feeling her anger abate as she saw the genuine fear in his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"Take someone with you at least," Falk urged. "For back-up. And if there is something worse than bears or bandits in there, come back and get help. Please."

"Well, I never said I was going in alone, did I?" said Elisif, finally smiling a little. "Falk, get me a quill and paper. I've got a letter to write."

* * *

Erandur stared at the courier who'd knocked on the door of Nightcaller Temple, holding a sealed envelope and a large bag of gold. Two hundred septims? For him?

"Are you sure you've got the right person, young man?"

"Older Dunmer priest, living alone in the Tower of the Dawn above Dawnstar," the courier replied. "Going by the name of Erandur. That's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's me, but how..." _No one outside Dawnstar even knows I'm here. No one but Maia..._

"Lady called Maia said to give you this letter and the gold. Seemed very keen it get to you right away. Looks like that's it, got to go!" The courier ran off down the hill, leaving Erandur with the gold and Maia's letter. Well. This was unexpected. Time to see what the girl wanted.

_"__Dear Erandur,_

_Sorry to trouble you, but something has come up here in Haafingar Hold, and the Jarl is very keen to have it dealt with. I've taken on the job, but I'm going to need your help._

_I've sent some gold to cover your travel expenses, I hope it's enough. Get the boat to Solitude as soon as you can and make yourself known to Rorlund at the Temple of Divines. Then wait there and I'll find you. Take a room in the Winking Skeever if you need somewhere to stay before you find me, but I do have a house you can sleep in after that._

_I can't tell you any more, it's dangerous to write too much down, but I will tell you everything once you get to Solitude._

_I hope to see you soon,_

_Your friend,_

_Maia"_

Well now. This was something to think about. Two hundred septims, of course it was enough, more than enough, he could make this last a whole fortnight even with the boat fare to Solitude deducted. Erandur's suspicions about Maia were confirmed, probably noble-born and with no real idea of how much things actually cost so she'd erred on the side of caution. Certainly owning a house in Solitude of all places cost a serious amount of coin. Why the woman was taking on mercenary jobs was beyond him, but she wouldn't have asked for his help if she'd not needed it.

It only took a few minutes to pack his things, and then he was running down the mountainside, heading for the ferry to Solitude.

* * *

A/N: I have had to amend Diplomatic Immunity a little - obviously Elisif is known to the Thalmor, which is going to make it difficult for her to do the infiltrating. So I have reworked it a little. I think you will like the result. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Summary: Haafingar has a necromancer problem, and its Jarl has had enough. However, Elisif may find that finally flexing her muscles may bring both benefits and a downside...

* * *

Erandur knelt before Mara's shrine in the Temple of Divines, hoping he passed for an ordinary worshipper. He'd spoken briefly to Rorlund who'd looked a bit confused at the name Maia before seeming to realise who he was talking about and reassuring him he'd go get her, and to make himself comfortable in the Temple in the mean time.

So here he was, praying quietly to Mara and hoping she'd come soon.

Footsteps on the Temple floor and then a cloaked figure kneeling beside him, the hood falling back to reveal red hair and a golden circlet.

"Hello!" Maia gasped, sounding a little out of breath but definitely pleased to see him. She'd had her armour repaired and cleaned up, but otherwise looked much as she'd done when he last saw her. "You made it! How was the journey?"

"A little rough but no bother," Erandur replied, getting to his feet with a smile. "Maia, my friend, it's good to see you." He held out his arms for a hug, which she gladly returned, happy smile on her face... and it was then that he noticed the steel plated Nord behind her, glaring at him and reaching for his sword.

"Maia, look out -," he began and Maia turned around. To his surprise, she actually glared at the big Nord, tapping her feet.

"Bolgeir!" she snapped. "He is a friend, and a sworn priest of Mara! Stand down immediately!"

Bolgeir let his sword go and stood back, folding his arms but still glaring at Erandur, who was now a little puzzled. Clearly a bodyguard of some sort, so why call on him? Had to be something requiring a priest's assistance, but this city had the Temple itself and a Hall of the Dead. Why him in particular?

"Is he a friend of yours, Maia?" Erandur asked, wondering just what her situation was in this city. Rich, clearly, but he also had the sense she wasn't in charge of her own destiny. Was her father someone powerful, a controlling man who loved his daughter but also didn't like her risking herself? Maybe this was why she'd taken up mercenary work, to get some freedom.

"Bodyguard," said Maia tersely. "Gods know why I need one in my _own city_ with guards on every corner, but apparently it's dangerous for me to step outside alone. But there I go, talking about my problems. How are you, Erandur?"

"Very well, thank you," Erandur replied, fairly bursting with questions by this point. "So, you needed my help."

"Not here," said Maia, lowering her voice as she glanced at the other visitors. "Come on, come with me. We need to talk."

Erandur followed her out, that bodyguard of hers falling into step a few paces behind, not taking his eyes off Erandur. Something was very wrong here, in fact the entire city seemed on edge. Could be the war. Could be the trauma of having its High King murdered. Maybe even dragons. But Maia seemed like a different person here. Angrier and yet more vulnerable, if that made any sense. Back in Dawnstar, he'd worried for her physical safety but she'd seemed calm, even cheerful, most of the time. Even when he'd confessed about Vaermina and his history with the cult, she'd been angry briefly, even a little disappointed... but she'd sighed, forgiven him and told him as long as he wasn't still in league with Vaermina, it was fine. Everyone had their secrets after all. Something in the way she'd said it had made him wonder what her own might be... but he'd not felt confident enough to ask. Now he had a feeling they might be to do with this city.

She was heading towards the Blue Palace and what was clearly the upmarket end of town. Solitude's manor houses towered on either side and Erandur wondered which was hers. She finally halted just before the Palace itself.

"Erandur, I – I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you," she said, blushing furiously and not meeting his eyes. Secrets. He knew it. Well, she'd not turned him away after hearing his, and he doubted hers were worse.

"I see. What do you need to tell me, Maia? I hope you've not turned to worship of the Daedra," he said, mock disapproval masking the curiosity. Her blush deepened and her shoulders hunched in guilt, and Erandur immediately wished he'd not teased her.

"Maia? What is it?"

"My name's not Maia!" she cried, finally looking at him with tears in her eyes. "It's Elisif!"

Elisif, Elisif, he knew that name. That was that poor girl whose husband Ulfric had killed, the one the Empire wanted to make High Queen. Elisif... who'd obviously live in Solitude, when she wasn't wandering Skyrim under a false name anyway.

"Sweet Lady Mara," he whispered. "You're Jarl Elisif."

Elisif nodded tearfully, wiping at her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Erandur. I didn't mean to lie to you but I can't use my real name in Stormcloak territory, Ulfric already tried to take me prisoner once!"

Well, no wonder she had trouble shaking that housecarl. The city must be terrified of losing its queen after what happened to the last ruler. The poor girl. The poor, poor girl.

"Elisif," said Erandur, testing the name out and finding it came easily to him. It did suit her. "I won't say I'm not surprised, because I never thought the Jarl of Solitude would be hiding out in Dawnstar pretending to be a common mercenary. But I'm not angry. I understand why you might not tell everyone you meet when you're not in Solitude."

Elisif smiled through her tears, looking quite pathetically grateful and not at all like a Jarl if he was honest. He had to wonder how old she was exactly. Quite young in human terms, he imagined.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Come on, come inside. Let's get you comfortable and then we can talk, is that all right?"

Definitely nothing like any of the Jarls he'd met. Erandur thought that was probably a good thing but all the same, he was starting to feel rather concerned for her. Back in Dawnstar she'd seemed a little inexperienced, but brave for all that. Here she was meant to be in charge but seemed like a frightened child. No wonder she'd needed his help. Erandur resolved to do all he could to make sure she didn't go the same way Torygg did.

* * *

She'd taken him inside, introduced him to her steward, Falk Firebeard, as a travelling priest of Mara, good friend and spiritual advisor of hers, who was staying as her guest for a few days. Falk had looked him over, a little disbelieving, but Erandur hadn't got where he was by not being able to read people.

"Lady Elisif needed someone to talk to about her relationship with Lady Mara after losing her husband. I'm helping her reconcile her feelings with Lady Mara's Divine Benevolence," Erandur explained, folding his hands and bowing, hoping he looked appropriately pious. It worked. Falk's suspicions immediately eased.

"Of course, I imagine she probably does," said Falk gently. "She's been so unhappy since Torygg died, someone with no other responsibilities but to listen to her might be just what she needs right now. Come with me, sir, I'll find you a bedroom. Do you need anything? A bath? Change of clothes? Food?"

All of the above had been more than welcome, although Elisif had told Falk to send him to her quarters for dinner, they'd eat there. And so here they both were, Erandur seated across a small table from Elisif as the servants poured their wine and left them to it, tucking into a gorgeous meal of roast pheasant. Far nicer than he deserved, but it would be rude to decline.

"So," he began. "Now that we're alone, do you mind telling me what's going on? How'd a Jarl end up in Dawnstar?"

"This is a very long story," Elisif sighed. "And it's a little unbelievable."

"Try me," Erandur said, leaning forward with a smile. People often said that about their problems, little realising that when you heard enough stories from people, it was amazing how the same themes kept cropping up time and again.

"All right," said Elisif, leaning closer. "It all started with the dragons..."

Erandur listened, and while the story wasn't what he'd expected, not at all, it finally made sense of Maia the mercenary, with the top-notch gear, somewhat naïve fighting style and that odd ability to cast spells with her voice. Maia who was scared to death but wanted to do the right thing anyway, stronger and braver than she ever gave herself credit for. Maia who was Elisif, future Queen of Skyrim... and Dragonborn apparently. Able to kill dragons permanently and take their power.

"And now everyone seems to want a piece of me," Elisif sighed. "Ulfric wanted me to join his cause – as if I ever would after what he did to Torygg! Rikke says half of Skyrim is suddenly joining the Legion, convinced I'm the gods' Chosen One. Falk seems to think I'm some fragile doll to be protected from the entire world while at the same time thinking I'm incapable of wielding any kind of power or making a decision. Everyone wants to control me and no one takes me seriously! Or even really sees me as a person at all. Every time I try to make a decision or give any sort of order, someone overrules me. I'm really quite sick of it, Erandur."

"That does sound like a very hard place to be in," said Erandur, feeling sorry for her. Truly, it was a lot for a young woman who'd never even asked for any of it.

"It is," said Elisif softly. "But I'm Dragonborn and I'm going to be Queen and my people need me, so I'm not going to let them tell me what to do any more. If I have to prove it to them, I will. Only... I may have bitten off a little more than I can chew. Which is why I need your help."

Erandur reached for his wine glass, having a feeling he was going to need it. "Yes, you mentioned some job the Jarl particularly wanted sorting out. What happened?"

So Elisif told him about how one of her people had reported disturbances at a certain cave once used by Potema the Wolf Queen. Now that was ominous. Very ominous.

"You know that certain rituals leave imprints on a place," Erandur said, voice grave. "If that place was really used by Potema, chances are it still carries power, that's if there wasn't power there in the first place. Your man Varnius is right to be concerned."

To his surprise, Elisif looked delighted.

"That's what I said!" she cried. "But Falk didn't think it was worth sending troops to deal with. So I said I'd go. Of course, he didn't like that either." She actually grinned at that. Erandur felt a brief burst of sympathy for Falk... but only a brief one. Elisif was probably in the right over this one after all.

"And you want me to come with you," Erandur guessed.

"Yes!" Elisif gasped, probably relieved she'd not had to actually ask outright. "I mean, if you want to. I mean, if there really are necromancers down there, you'll know how to deal with them, right?"

"I'll do my best," Erandur promised. He'd seen his fair share of dark arts, it was true. Practised his fair share too. He'd been trying to do penance for it ever since. Helping Jarl Elisif wipe it out in her own Hold? Of course he'd help.

* * *

The skeletons guarding the entrance were the first clue. Then the Draugr wandering around. Then the necromancers sitting around a fire, and then several more and some Draugr arrived. Elisif was just thankful she'd found the ledge above the cavern and could snipe some of them from there first before joining the melee. As it was, she had to sit down afterwards while Erandur healed her wounds.

"Do you want to go back?" Erandur asked quietly. "That was a hard fight. There's likely to be more too."

"Yes, which is why I'm not stopping," said Elisif grimly, flexing her arms, testing her strength against Erandur's healing job. "I don't know what they're doing down here, but it can't be anything good. We need to press on while we still have the element of surprise – they'll soon know their friends are dead." She still wasn't used to the idea of killing people or being around dead bodies, but it was starting to bother her less. Especially necromancers. They made her skin crawl. Re-animating the dead, harvesting their souls – it was monstrous, absolutely unnatural. Elisif didn't object to collecting animal souls, they wouldn't have much of an afterlife anyway. But humans? Sentient beings? Absolutely not. There weren't many people Elisif could honestly say deserved to die but necromancers were probably among them.

They pressed on until they found the pit. It looked just about safe to jump down, and there were more lights and noises coming from it.

"This is it," Elisif whispered. "No going back. You ready?"

Erandur was. They jumped.

* * *

At the bottom of the pit was a tunnel, leading to a cave, containing more ruins, the remains of a fort and yet more necromancers and their Draugr. Right up on top of the tower, glowing purple light and chanting indicated a ritual was afoot.

"I knew it," Elisif whispered. "Look at this! What do you think they're doing?"

Erandur placed a finger to his lips and motioned for her to listen.

"Wolf Queen! Hear our call and awaken! We summon Potema!" the ritual leader called out, voice ringing around the cave.

"We summon Potema!" the chanting acolytes echoed. Elisif only just stopped herself crying out.

"This is worse than I ever imagined," Erandur murmured, horrified, and Elisif guessed he'd heard of Potema too – well, who hadn't? She was one of the most evil necromancers of all time, and powerful too. And these idiots were trying to summon her from the dead?

"Should we go back, get help?" Elisif whispered, remembering her promise to Falk to come and get reinforcements if there was something worse than bandits there. Well, this was definitely worse.

"I don't think we can," Erandur murmured. "It'd take hours to climb out of that pit. And the ritual's already under way. We don't have time to go back. We need to deal with this or Potema will be coming back to life."

When he put it like that...

"Well, she's not having her throne back," Elisif snapped. "I'll fight her for it first. There's only room for one Queen of Solitude in Skyrim and it's not her!"

"Well said," said Erandur, readying his mace. "Let's go bring Mara's light to some necromancer filth, shall we?"

Elisif wasn't entirely sure Mara's teachings were meant to encompass quite as much bludgeoning as Erandur seemed to enjoy, but all the same, help was much appreciated.

"Let's," she whispered, unshouldering her greatsword and preparing to charge. This Queen of Solitude had a pretender to put down.

* * *

It didn't take long for someone to realise they were there, and soon all the Draugr were on alert, along with the more junior mages accompanying them. Erandur's magic arced through the air while Elisif gritted her teeth and dodged the magic coming back at her, Shouting her opponents down and finishing them before they could fight back. Not honourable, no, but Arngeir's words never left her – using the Thu'um against a weaker opponent to save your own skin was bad but evening the odds against a stronger one was fine. And she had to live, she had to, Skyrim needed her to fight dragons and she was damned if she was going to die before she'd had a chance at Ulfric. So the Draugr died and the necromancers died, even if some of the necromancers did look awfully young.

Elisif rounded the final leg of the spiral staircase leading up to the ritual itself. The ritual leader ignored her, still focusing on the strange orb that seemed to be the focus of the ritual, but she clearly knew Elisif was there because she wasted no time ordering her two companions, a man and a woman, after her. All three Nords, and that was a true disappointment, didn't her fellow Nords have more sense? Apparently not.

"FUS RO DAH!" The Shout caught one of them, sending her flying, and Elisif felt her heart contract in guilt as she caught the horrified look on the mage's face as the Thu'um carried her over the parapet to her doom. The male mage hesitated, flinging up a ward while he tried to work out what to do with someone who could apparently still use magic even with both hands clutching a greatsword, and Elisif took advantage by darting forward and cleaving him almost in two. Erandur had by this time caught up and finished the man off with a fireball then turned lightning on the lead mage. She had to know the game was up by this time, but she only sped up her chanting, Nordic stubbornness keeping her going. She did spare one hand to cast frost magic at Elisif though. Elisif staggered but her own momentum kept her going and a stroke from her sword sent the mage reeling. One fireball from Erandur and she was dead – but the altar was still glowing, that orb still suspended in midair.

"What's it doing?" Elisif cried. The mages were dead, that should have stopped it, right?"

"They're using a Daedric artefact to power it," Erandur replied grimly, coming to take the place of the dead leader. "Its power is considerable but fortunately it's also being misused. I imagine the Daedra it belongs to will be quite happy to assist in switching it off." So saying he raised his hands and began a strange invocation in a language Elisif had never heard before, although it sounded frightening. It seemed to work though as the light began to dim, the glow faded and the magic making Elisif's hair stand on end and her head hurt died away. Suddenly there was a silent explosion of white light, and then everything was quiet. No magic. No light. No strange noises. Nothing. The orb, now a simple metallic irregular round shape, crashed on to the altar and bounced down the stairs.

Erandur swore in a most unpriestly manner and made to go after it, but Elisif was faster.

"Don't worry, Erandur, I'll get it!" she called, running down the stairs and spying it at rest on the landing. Good, it hadn't gone far. Best not to leave a powerful Daedric artefact lying around for anyone to find and misuse. Elisif reached and picked it up. Got it!

_"__A new hand touches my beacon," _a woman's voice, cool and commanding, reverberated in Elisif's mind.

"Oh gods," Elisif whispered. She definitely should have let Erandur get this after all...

_"__Listen, mortal! Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy."_

"I'll do what now?" Elisif whispered, horrified. She was being given orders by a Daedra now? This was bad. This was very bad indeed.

_"__Take my beacon to my Temple at Mount Kilkreath and restore it unto me. Then you and I have work to do."_

Kilkreath? Well, that wasn't far away, on the way back to Solitude in fact. She supposed she could drop it off.

"Elisif? Elisif!" Erandur had followed her down and stopped, seeing the Beacon in her hands. "Sweet Azura's mercy, you touched it, didn't you?"

"Is that bad?" Elisif whispered, seeing the answer in his eyes. He nodded slowly.

"It just gave the goddess Meridia a direct portal into your mind," Erandur said, concerned. "Er. Did she... say anything to you?"

"She wants me to take this back to her temple at Kilkreath," said Elisif, staring at the orb. It was pretty, reflecting white shards of light in all directions. Shame she couldn't keep it – but Meridia was not a deity to displease. "She says someone or something has profaned it."

"More necromancers most likely," said Erandur, hefting his mace, looking rather pleased at the prospect. "Don't worry, Elisif. There's worse Daedra than Meridia out there. She's one of the benevolent ones – mostly. Let's get this beacon back to her temple, shall we? I think there's a drawbridge at the top of this tower that leads out."

Elisif put the beacon into her pack and followed Erandur out. This whole thing was worrying her, and not just the Daedra in her head. How many necromancers did Haafingar have living here anyway?

* * *

"Captain Aldis!"

Aldis looked up, feeling both surprise and a hint of dread. Of all the people he'd expected to see or hear from today, Jarl Elisif in person wasn't one of them. Hadn't she just gone on some trip inspecting her Hold without even a housecarl for company? Mainly because the last housecarl that had gone out travelling with her had been killed by Stormcloaks, and Elisif had been dead set on no one else dying because of her ever again. Apparently she might have changed her mind.

"Jarl, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"I need men," Elisif said without any preamble. "Any you can spare. We've got a problem."

Well yes, Skyrim had problems all over, but he couldn't just send men out after the Jarl without a bit of planning, not to mention the General's likely reaction.

"Jarl, we're very stretched thin because of the war, especially after you asked me to send extra men to Dragon Bridge..."

"Well call them back," Elisif snapped. "I sorted out the problem at Wolfskull Cave, we don't need them guarding the town any more. We've got another problem. There's a necromancer at Kilkreath Ruins, desecrating the bodies of Skyrim's war dead and harvesting their souls to build an army. I'm going in there and I'm going to stop him, but I need soldiers, captain! So I need every true-hearted soldier in the Haafingar Guard who's capable of wielding a blade and..."

The soldiers who'd been practising out in the yard had all put down their weapons, turning to listen to their Jarl who everybody now knew was Dragonborn, and they'd all gone pale at the idea of Nord war dead being cheated of Sovngarde by some necromancer.

"We're with you, Jarl!" one cried.

"Ready when you are, Dragonborn!" shouted another.

"We'll teach him to mess with Nords!" called a third. By this time, an entire group had gathered, all waving their swords in the air and shouting approval of this plan, and Aldis realised that if he didn't take charge of this situation, they'd all be following Elisif out of Solitude wherever she led them.

Of course, Aldis was also a true Nord himself and the idea of some necromancer right here in Haafingar keeping his people from Sovngarde... no. So seeing as the Jarl herself was giving the orders...

"All right soldiers, gather your weapons," Aldis roared. "We move in fifteen, go!"

Elisif watched them all mustering with commendable efficiency, turning to Erandur in amazement.

"They did it!" she whispered. "You were right! They're doing what I tell them, look!"

"See?" said Erandur, patting her shoulder and grinning. "It's all in the voice, Elisif. You just have to stay firm and sound like you know what you're talking about. And honestly, you've probably seen more necromancers than they have by this point."

This was true, and Elisif still shuddered to think of what she'd seen going on in Wolfskull Cave and Vaermina's Temple. No more of this. She wasn't exactly a Meridia worshipper per se... but dealing with people who interfered with the natural order of life and death and stopped Nords who'd fought hard going to Sovngarde? That she was quite happy to do.

* * *

"What in the name of the Eight were you thinking?" Tullius shouted across the Blue Palace's throne room. Two days since she'd got back from Kilkreath telling stories of necromancers and corpse desecration and commandeering a squad of troops to investigate, and the Legion were still clearing up the mess. There must have been about fifty bodies in there from both sides, all so badly mangled that it was likely they'd never be identified, and Styrr was still busy reconsecrating them and giving them an honourable burial in the Hall of the Dead. There was already talk of a memorial being erected at Kilkreath itself to those butchered by Malkoran. It was all very public-spirited, but Tullius was about ready to wring Elisif's neck.

"General, he was harvesting souls and desecrating bodies, he had a whole troop of corrupted shades at his command!" Elisif protested from her throne. "I can hardly let that go unchecked, not in my own Hold!"

A valid point, it had to be said, and the necromancer activity had turned out to be quite genuine in the end, but nevertheless there was a point to be made here. Especially since Tullius had started getting reports of wilder tales of the gods sweeping Elisif up into the heavens afterwards and anointing her with a Divine mission to sweep out corruption and gifting her with a golden sword of fire to do it with. Said sword was at Elisif's side right now, actually glowing, and the young Jarl looked apologetic but not actually remorseful.

"Yes, yes, Elisif, I agree you need to maintain order in your Hold, I accept that," Tullius sighed. "And yes, in this case, I agree you needed troops to help you, this Malkoran sounded like a dangerous man. But Lady Elisif, you can't just start commandeering troops when you feel like it. There's forms to complete, a process to follow..."

"And in the mean time, my people die?" Elisif snapped. "Look General, I'm very sorry for the short notice, but I needed those troops and..."

"They're Legion soldiers!" Tullius snapped back. "You are not part of the Legion!"

"No, I'm the bloody Jarl!" Elisif shouted, getting up. "And I'm going to be High Queen and you'd do well to remember that, General!"

"When Ulfric and his rebellion have been put down, yes!" Tullius hit back. "Not before! And whose troops are you relying on to do that for you, Elisif? Are you capable of raising your own army to fight Ulfric?"

Elisif said nothing, glaring at him, mouth set in a thin line as she folded her arms. When she finally did speak, her voice was cold and authoritative in a way he really wasn't used to hearing from her.

"The way I hear it, General, ever since I found out I was Dragonborn, half your army is composed of recruits who joined because they're ready to give their lives for a Dragonborn Queen who's clearly been picked by the gods themselves in their eyes. Maybe the Legion swears its loyalty to the Emperor, but there's an awful lot of Nords in that Legion who'd follow me to Oblivion and back. Don't you ever forget that, General."

How could he? These days it seemed every other recruit was a wide-eyed Nord there to avenge the true High Queen, the Chosen of Akatosh. On the one hand, the extra recruits were good to have, as was the public relations victory – winning the hearts and minds of Skyrim's people would be key to this war and having their High Queen turn out to be this Dragonborn was proving useful. On the other hand, ever since she'd got back from her trip to these Greybeards she'd been... different. Less biddable. Unpredictable. Out of control. Liable to upset all Tullius' carefully laid plans. This could have the potential to make life very very difficult for them all.

"No, Elisif, I quite understand, many Nords want you as Queen, and I do appreciate that, I really do," Tullius sighed. "But if Ulfric had attacked and half our troops had been off with you down some cave or other, the city could have been in trouble, couldn't it?"

Elisif did look away then, conceding that point at least. "Yes, General," she sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"Good," said Tullius, not entirely convinced there weren't going to be any other incidents but he supposed this was the best he was going to get. "Don't get me wrong, Jarl, I absolutely agree that you need to keep order in your Hold, and I don't even think what you did was so wrong in itself. Only we have a war to fight and I need those soldiers. So next time you need to go on some crusade, you talk to me first and I'll see what we've got available. Is that agreeable to you, Jarl Elisif?"

"Yes, General," Elisif said softly, lowering her eyes. Tullius nodded, deciding this conversation was finished and took his leave.

Elisif watched him go, calm enough on the outside, but inside she was seething. Stupid little man with his petty little problems... she was a damn Dragonborn! She could take Ulfric, she was sure of it, one strike with Dawnbreaker and a swipe with her axe and the entire war would be over. Of course, that would first mean getting into Windhelm and past all his soldiers, and then there'd be the little matter of getting out alive afterwards. She wouldn't be able to manage that without an army behind her and who else's did she have? Just the Legion.

Of course, if she did kill Ulfric and then get killed by his men in revenge, at least she'd get to go to Sovngarde and be with Torygg again. That wouldn't be a bad thing either, in fact there was a part of her hoping it could be so.

But not just yet. For now her people needed her. More to the point, she'd had a letter from the Thalmor Embassy, an invitation to Elenwen's next party. Elisif steeled herself for it. This party was not going to be an easy one.

* * *

A/N: A short one, but it does set up future events, plus it also gets her Dawnbreaker. Every self-respecting Dragonborn needs a Dawnbreaker. :)

Next chapter is Diplomatic Immunity, and I think you will enjoy it greatly.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY! I hope you like this one, I had a lot of fun with it, I've been itching to post it for ages. We've got thieves, Thalmor, shenanigans, ironic turns of events and then something unexpected to round off with. Enjoy!

Summary: Thanks to Elisif already being known to the Thalmor, Delphine's had to hit up Skyrim's underworld for assistance. But while she gets what she came for, the price may be more than she's prepared to pay and not just in coin either. Meanwhile, Elisif's attending her first party since Torygg died and she's not coping well...

* * *

Riften. City of sin. Well. Not so much that, nothing so interesting. City of crime then. City of various monetary acts of wrongdoing, with that same down to earth grubby charm it had always had. A city that was welcoming to all as all it cared about was your coin. Technically Stormcloak and that at least meant no Thalmor. But in reality, it belonged to the Black-Briars and Thieves Guild and always had done, and that was precisely why Delphine was here.

"Make love like a sabre cat! Grow back that missing limb! Learn a new language in seconds, all thanks to my genuine Falmer blood elixir!"

And there he was. Her old friend Brynjolf at his market stall, selling his usual wares. A few passers-by stopped to have a look, but most of Riften's citizens knew Brynjolf all too well.

She stopped by the stall, glancing up at him from under her hood.

"Hello there lass, can I interest you in my genuine Falmer blood elixir? Only twenty septims-" He stopped, seeing first the hood of a fellow Guildmate, then under the hood, someone he'd likely not thought he'd see again.

Delphine wasn't proud of her Thieves Guild years. But she'd been on the run after the war, was running out of hiding places and in desperation had ended up hiding out in Riften's Ratway, paying the Guild to bring her food. Most had just brought the food, taken the coin and gone on their merry way without asking questions. Not so Brynjolf. He'd brought the food, taken the coin and started chatting. First asking questions but when she'd shut the door and ignored him, he'd stopped expecting an answer and started monologuing. Despite trying to block him out, he had a way of making the mundane sound interesting – and he'd been a useful source of information. One day he'd mentioned something about Thalmor agents in town and she'd opened the door to ask more without even thinking. He'd just stopped and grinned, knowing he had her and then proceeded to start asking a price.

The sexual favours he'd initially suggested had been met with a right hook to the jaw. He'd taken the hint and the following day, he'd revised his price. Not coin, no, but her joining the Guild, helping them out. So after a bit of thought, she'd said yes and there had followed six, nearly seven years of thieving all over Skyrim, her espionage skills being put to a use her trainers had never anticipated. During that time, she and Brynjolf had become friends, partners in crime – until she'd been spotted by a Thalmor agent while on a job, killed to protect her identity and been forced to leave the Guild. She'd taken in more than enough coin to buy the Sleeping Giant by that point though, and retiring to Riverwood had proved to be a good option. Ten years she'd been there now and the Thalmor hadn't found her yet. Talos willing, they never would.

"Bryn," Delphine said, smiling. "How've you been?"

Brynjolf stared at her, not able to believe his eyes. "Del? Is that you? Now you're a sight for sore eyes, lass. You haven't changed a bit."

"Nor have you if you think I'll fall for your usual flattery," Delphine remarked, but part of her was pleased by the genuine pleasure in his eyes on seeing her. Not often she got that reaction. "It's good to see you, Bryn."

"And you," Brynjolf replied, actually grinning. "So what brings you to Riften? Business? Pleasure? Something else? Something I could help with perhaps?" His eyes lingered on her a little longer than they should and Delphine could only sigh wearily. While Brynjolf could hardly be said to be pining for her and certainly hadn't been saving himself for her or anyone else, he'd never made any secret of the fact he found her attractive either. It was a little unsettling if Delphine was honest, but Brynjolf had never pushed the matter and for that at least she was relieved.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Delphine said, hoping he actually could because if the Guild couldn't help, she was frankly stuffed. "I'm planning a job – a big one. A dangerous one, with a lot riding on it, and I'm going to need an extra pair of hands. I need a Guild thief, Bryn, a good one. Can you help?"

"Not here," said Brynjolf softly, lowering his voice. "Meet me tonight in the Flagon, yeah?"

Which was exactly the response she'd been hoping for. Handing twenty septims over for a bottle of spurious elixir so their conversation at least looked a little bit legitimate, Delphine slipped away.

* * *

Later that evening, and Delphine was feeling a little nervous as she walked back into the Flagon. She didn't recognise the doorman, who glanced at her armour and waved her on through with just a warning to cause no trouble. She vaguely recognised the blonde Imperial woman as someone who'd only just joined the Guild when she left – Vex, was it? But Vekel, Tonilia, Delvin – they were older but they all knew her.

"Delphine love, about time you showed up again," Delvin laughed as he got up to greet her with the typical Breton cheek-kiss. "Welcome back, this place has been going downhill ever since you left."

"Delvin," Delphine laughed. "Good to see you, how've you been?"

All the better for seeing her, apparently – Vekel had mead sent over and Tonilia joined them and it became apparent the Guild was not doing well. It had been in gentle decline when she'd been part of it – another reason to get out while she had her coin still – but it seemed things had only got worse. Not a brilliant sign, if she was honest.

Then Brynjolf walked in, dressed in the same black Guild armour Delvin and Vex had and that was something, to find out Brynjolf was the second in command these days.

"You're going up in the world, Bryn," she laughed. Brynjolf just grimaced.

"Aye, I just wish the same could be said about the Guild. But never mind that, lass. You said you had a job for me." He led her over to a quiet table in the corner and the rest of the Guild had the presence of mind to leave them to it.

"So what is it?" he asked quietly. "Shill job, heist job, numbers job, good old-fashioned burglary, what?"

"A difficult one, is what it is," Delphine sighed. "This place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse. I mean, I've worked out a way to get someone into the place, got a distraction all lined up, but I need someone to actually get in there and get out with what I need."

"And what do you need, Delphine?" Brynjolf asked, so far not fazed. "As long as we're not robbing anyone the Guild works with, I'm all ears."

"You may change your mind when I tell you," Delphine told him. "Let's just say it's not their valuables I'm after – your man or woman can keep anything not nailed down as far as I'm concerned. What I'm after is their information, their secret files."

Brynjolf just grinned. "Lass, information is the most valuable thing of all in this business. So we break into this place, raid their office, take their top secret documents and get out without being fingered. Sounds easy enough. Who's the mark?"

And this was the bit Delphine had been dreading.

"The Thalmor Embassy," Delphine admitted. Brynjolf stared at her, open-mouthed, then the colour returned to his cheeks as he swept out of his chair.

"_No_," he snapped. "Are you actually fucking insane? Break into that place? You'll get us all killed!"

"Bryn, wait!" Delphine cried, grabbing his arm, hoping he'd sit down and shut up before the rest of the Guild all got in on the act. Dirge was already glaring at her and both Tonilia and Delvin were looking their way too.

"Look, I got this all planned out," Delphine whispered, gently nudging him back into the chair. Anyone else, that would never have worked, but Brynjolf did at least sit down again, although he still looked wary. "I've got a man on the inside and a distraction good to go. I've got all the arrangements in place. I just need someone to do the job."

"What in Shor's name do you need top secret Thalmor files for anyway?" Brynjolf murmured. "Listen Delphine, if they've taken someone you care about, don't bother. Whoever it is is dead, or will be soon. Mourn 'em, move on."

If only it were that easy.

"That's not why I'm doing this," Delphine whispered. "It's information on the dragons we need."

"Dragons?" Brynjolf scratched his head, thoroughly confused by this point... and then Delphine could see the pieces clicking together.

"Would this job have anything to do with a certain notable personage who may or may not apparently be Dragonborn, by any chance?"

Damn him. Brynjolf always had been too smart for his own good.

"That's none of your concern," Delphine snapped. "Just... look, all you need to know is that I'm offering good money for this information and have a job all good to go. I need someone charming and persuasive but not too memorable, who can attend a party at the Embassy and when the distraction goes down, slip off, raid the Ambassador's offices and get out. I can get them a legitimate invitation, I can get them an outfit, I can get their gear smuggled in. I just need a name off you, Brynjolf."

Brynjolf didn't say anything, clearly thinking it over. "I imagine there'll be a serious amount of coin involved here, lass."

"Two thousand," said Delphine, an absurdly low figure for the risk involved and Brynjolf knew it too.

"Ten," he said firmly. Delphine shook her head, going over her own finances. Healthy, but ten thousand was almost her entire life savings.

"Five," she offered. Brynjolf smiled faintly.

"Seven," was the response. Delphine threw up her hands.

"Do you think I'm made of money?" she sighed, frustrated. "Six and that's my final offer."

"Six thousand septims it is," Brynjolf said, smirking as he offered his hand. Delphine took it, feeling her shoulders sag as the relief hit her. He'd agreed. Of course he had, he was a risk-taker by nature and profession, he'd not be able to resist this.

"Six thousand and whatever you can steal inside," Delphine promised. "I just want the files. I don't even care if you have to kill people on this one, once your thief's away from the party, they can kill anyone who gets in their way."

Brynjolf nodded, but his eyes gave nothing away. "So you want someone who can schmooze with the best of them but not stand out too much, someone who can move quietly but who's prepared to kill if they have to and who's willing to risk their life in the Thalmor Embassy for you."

"Pretty much, yeah," Delphine admitted. "I know it might take you a few days to find someone but..."

"No need," Brynjolf said calmly, refilling her mead tankard. "I've got a name for you."

"What, already?" Well, Brynjolf knew his Guild, she supposed. "Who is it?"

"Brynjolf," he said, grin flickering on his lips as he glanced up, clearly amused by the shock on her face. "What, you think I'm risking anyone else's neck on this? No fear, lass. I'm taking this one."

"You... what?" Delphine whispered, hardly able to breathe... and yet at the same time, she found herself perversely pleased by the idea of working with Brynjolf again. That and the fewer people in on it, the better. "You'll really do it?"

"I really will," Brynjolf promised, leaning forward and squeezing her hand. "Now, why don't you fill me in on the details and then we can get on with the important task of catching up and bitching about Mercer, hmm?"

Delphine had to smile at that. He still remembered one of their favourite pastimes. Truth be told, she had missed this. Being with the Guild had felt almost like having her Blades brothers and sisters back – at least until she'd had to run again. She'd missed them all, Brynjolf in particular, but she couldn't have stayed. Not with the risk of someone realising who she was and calling the Thalmor in. So she'd left them all behind and gone to ground. Now here she was again, learning how to work with other people once more. It was going to take some getting used to – but Brynjolf's smile had a way of reassuring her.

* * *

Elisif fingered her wine glass nervously, forcing a smile as Erikur told some seriously unfunny joke at someone else's expense. Gods, but she wasn't keen on these affairs at the best of times, but they'd got worse since Torygg died. At least with him she'd had someone to hold her hand, and more importantly, someone to talk to on the carriage home about how terrible it had been and laugh together about the other guests. Then he'd died and parties had been the last thing on her mind. Now here she was at her first one since he'd died and she could feel it, all the pitying looks, everyone secretly watching her, talking about her – _widowed, you know, Ulfric killed her husband, such a tragedy, so young_ – and that was bad enough. Then there were the other comments – _going to be High Queen, not if Ulfric gets his way, would that be so bad? Slip of a girl doesn't look up to it – _and those really did get to her, not least because they might be right. Mostly though they just made her want to kill things and breathe fire – dragons could breathe fire, could she? She certainly wouldn't say no. Only it did sound dangerous...

But she didn't know how and that meant she was stuck here, pretending to be interested and pretending to be having a good time. Honestly, Idgrod was about the only person here who was actually remotely genuine, and she was half-crazy at best. But Elisif would take sincere but strange over insincere and untrustworthy any day.

Movement and then Elenwen was at her shoulder.

"Good evening, Jarl Elisif. Having a good time?"

Elisif nearly jumped out of her skin. She'd not even heard the Thalmor Ambassador approaching. She sipped her wine and tried not to think about the fact that someone would be breaking in to her Embassy tonight.

"Oh yes, Ambassador, very much so!" Elisif said brightly. "You always throw such good parties."

"I'm glad you enjoy them," Elenwen said, that odd little smirk of hers in place. "It's always a pleasure to see you here, Jarl. I wasn't sure I'd see you tonight though – you've not been in Solitude much lately, have you? I heard you were off visiting these... Greybeards. Something about dragons?"

Elenwen clearly knew about the entire Dragonborn situation and had probably heard every single story going. It was probably just a matter of sifting truth from fantasy. Once, Elisif might have confided in her, but something about the woman was setting her hackles on edge, her inner dragon starting to growl. Certainly given associates of Elisif's were going to be raiding the Embassy tonight, it was probably best to give Elenwen as little to work with as possible.

"There've been an awful lot of very unlikely stories springing up, Ambassador," said Elisif demurely. "Most of them are quite exaggerated."

"But are they untrue?" Elenwen asked, affecting a casual air but Elisif was not fooled. The Thalmor Ambassador was interested, very interested indeed and her intentions were hardly benevolent.

"Madam Ambassador, the dragons are a menace to the whole of Skyrim regardless of politics and as the rightful High Queen, I see it as my solemn duty to do whatever I can to help deal with the problem," Elisif replied, wishing Elenwen would go away. Honestly, Delphine's agent was supposed to be here, making contact, and they'd hardly do that with the Ambassador right here, would they?

"Of course, madam Jarl, of course," Elenwen said soothingly. "I quite understand the concern, but to go yourself - I find it surprising, that's all. Is there no one you could have sent in your stead if it was just dragon lore you were after?"

"They were very specific in their summons," Elisif said, deciding not to mention the exact nature of said summons. "It's hard to explain to a non-Nord, but if the Greybeards want to see you, you have to go. It's considered very bad form to refuse. No Nord is going to think I'm fit to rule if I'm seen to be disregarding the Greybeards."

Not entirely true, there were at least two Nords in this very room who wouldn't have cared in the slightest, but Elisif also knew Erikur and Maven would jump on the political capital from a refusal on her part anyway.

"Quite," Elenwen said, moving on to other topics, for which Elisif was grateful. The Altmer nodded in Maven's direction, to where Maven was having a rather hushed conversation with a new arrival, a red-haired Nord that Elisif hadn't seen before. For some reason, Maven seemed rather angry with him.

"Do you know that man, by any chance? He's on the guest list but I'm afraid he's a mystery to me," Elenwen said calmly. "He says he's from High Rock – I know you grew up there, I was wondering if you'd met him. He says his name's Ragnar."

As in the song perhaps? Thanks to that tune, the name Ragnar had been out of favour for years, especially for a red-haired family, but the Thalmor wouldn't know that. Elisif began to wonder if that was Delphine's man.

"I don't think so," Elisif said cautiously. "But we didn't move in terribly exalted circles in Wayrest, so we could easily have never been introduced. That's if he's from there – if he's from anywhere else, we'd never have known him."

"Indeed. A pity," Elenwen sighed. "I was hoping someone might know him. Thus far he's a mystery. I'm not even sure how he got on the list, but I imagine he's a man of influence somewhere. I'll see if Idgrod knows him. Thank you for your time, Jarl Elisif. Please, have a good evening." Elenwen moved on and Elisif breathed a sigh of relief. Ragnar, although she was sure that wasn't his real name, had left Maven by this point, and was soon making his way over to her, drink in hand.

"Now this is a sight to lift the heart, a young woman here with no father or husband to scare men off," he said, grinning roguishly at her. "I don't believe we've been introduced, lass. I'm Ragnar, a jewel merchant from Daggerfall, here in Skyrim on business with the East Empire Company. Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?"

Elisif was fairly certain he'd never done a day's work for the East Empire Company in his life, although had she checked their records, she'd actually have found his name among them, courtesy of the Thieves Guild's contacts there.

"Elisif, Jarl of Solitude," she said tersely. "And for your information, I'm a widow. My husband only died five months ago, I'm still in mourning. So no, I am not in need of male company, not now or in the foreseeable future."

"Now that is a shame," Ragnar replied, and there was actually genuine sympathy there to Elisif's surprise. "Well, not to worry, my intentions are entirely honourable. Should you change your mind and want someone to provide some entirely above-board company of an evening, or even buy some fine pieces of jewellery, you just come find me. I'm staying at the Winking Skeever until my ship leaves on the 30th of Frostfall."

A flicker of his eyelids as he said the date, and Elisif knew that was him, must be, it was Delphine's man, needing her to create a distraction so he could get away from the party.

"Well, I will think about it," said Elisif, relenting slightly. "But only to possibly order some new jewellery, nothing else so don't get any ideas. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to mingle with the other guests and you're distracting me." She emphasised the word distracting slightly, and a slight nod from him told her he'd understood.

"Not a problem, my lady," he said, bowing. "Far be it for _me_ to distract _you_." He withdrew and Elisif cast her eyes about, mind racing as to how to cause the scene that would get everyone's eyes on her for the time 'Ragnar' needed to get out of here. Over in the corner, she saw the perfect opportunity. Drink in hand, she idly wandered over to where that nice Redguard merchant was sitting.

Razelan glanced up, raising an eyebrow on seeing the Jarl herself approaching.

"I'm very sorry," Elisif whispered guiltily. "Please forgive me. It's in a good cause?" Before Razelan could ask what it was about, Elisif had turned her back, eyes scanning the room, Razelan sitting right behind her. She noticed Ragnar striking up a conversation with one of the Thalmor, took a deep breath, counted to quietly to five and then shrieked as loudly as she could manage. Everyone's head turned as one to see why Jarl Elisif was screaming and Elisif wasted no time in spinning around and slapping Razelan as hard as she could.

"You disgusting man!" she cried, trying to sound as furious and offended as possible. "How dare you! I am a Jarl of Skyrim AND a grieving widow, my husband hasn't even been dead six months, what is wrong with you?"

Guards approaching, Elenwen approaching, the entire room silent and Elisif didn't know if Ragnar was making the most of this or not but she couldn't afford to look. She just kept staring at the hapless Razelan who was rubbing his cheek, shocked.

"Lady, I don't know what I did to upset you, but..." Razelan began, but Elisif breathed deeply, reminding herself: _grieving widow, just been non-consensually groped, angry, tearful, upset, don't feel sorry for him, DON'T feel sorry for him..._

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Elisif yelled, feeling actual tears in her eyes. "Don't even look at me, stay away from me, stay AWAY!" She put her hands over her eyes, unable to face looking at poor Razelan as someone put an arm around her and led her away.

"There, there, Elisif," and that was Elenwen of all people. "Don't worry, I'll make sure this gets dealt with. Razelan! I distinctly recall from the last party you attended telling you that if you managed to cause a scene again, you'd be out, and here you are assaulting the High Queen of Skyrim? Shame on you, Razelan, shame on you."

"But I didn't-!" Razelan protested, and then his eyes hardened as they fell on Elisif. "You know what, I don't even care. So throw me out. Not like I'm missing anything here."

"Oh," Elisif whispered, guilt stabbing at her. "Ambassador, please don't be too hard on him, I'm sure he'd just had a bit to drink and didn't mean anything by it..."

Elenwen didn't answer, just glaring at Razelan.

"Guards, show Razelan to his carriage and make sure he leaves immediately," Elenwen said sternly. The Thalmor guards were quick to oblige, ushering Razelan out the door with commendable speed. Elisif looked away, tears in her eyes for real at this point. She was just lucky Razelan was too high-profile to arrest. She made a mental note to ask Falk to ensure he was given special treatment at their end in whatever business dealings he was doing.

"Ambassador, you don't have to do that, I was probably standing too close to him in the first place," Elisif began, but Elenwen stopped her, actually looking kind and sympathetic, genuinely this time.

"Elisif," said Elenwen gently. "It was not your fault. You have done nothing wrong, and if he can't keep his hands to himself, that is his fault and not yours. You shouldn't blame yourself."

Elisif nodded tearfully, because if she started arguing the point she'd end up crying on the Thalmor Ambassador's shoulder and that was just embarrassing.

"Now are you all right?" Elenwen asked gently. Elisif looked away then shook her head. She had to get out of here, not least because when Elenwen found out her Embassy's security had been compromised, Elisif wanted to be far away from here.

"I think - I think I need to go home," Elisif whispered. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, I didn't mean to ruin your party, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh hush child, you didn't ruin it, that oaf Razelan did. Again," Elenwen sighed. She motioned to her guards and within seconds one was bringing Elisif's fur cape and wrapping it round her shoulders and the other was motioning for her to follow them.

"Now you go home, have a bath and a nice early night," Elenwen said, sounding oddly matronly considering Elisif knew for a fact Elenwen had never either married or had children. "You'll feel so much better in the morning."

Elisif nodded and let herself be bundled out of the door to her carriage. She'd feel no such thing, in fact she wouldn't feel comfortable or safe until she heard news of how the break-in had gone and if she'd be even remotely linked to any of it. And as for humiliating poor Razelan like that... she wasn't sure she'd ever feel all right about that at all.

* * *

Half past nine by the time she got back to the Blue Palace. Falk had been up still, surprised to see her back so early and a little worried.

"Is everything all right, my Jarl?" He took a closer look and saw she'd been crying. "Elisif? Are you... were you crying?" In a few moments he was there, arms round her, rubbing her back, decidedly unstewardly conduct but welcome for all that.

"No!" Elisif wept. "No, I'm not all right, I was lonely and scared and I missed Torygg and..." She closed her eyes, bawling her eyes out on Falk's shoulder. For a few minutes neither moved, him just holding her and her sobbing on his shoulder, feeling worse for having Falk there comforting her because she didn't deserve it, she definitely didn't, she was the worst person in the world, first for getting an innocent man in trouble and now for manipulating another man into comforting her over it when he didn't even know what he was comforting her over.

"You know, I'm sure Elenwen would understand if you skipped the next one due to still not feeling up to socialising," Falk began and Elisif just nodded.

"I might do that," Elisif whispered. Not because she wasn't ready, but because she wasn't sure she could face Elenwen again after how sympathetic she'd been, and Elisif definitely couldn't face Razelan for a long while. "Falk, I – I think I might go to bed if it's all the same to you."

"Of course, Jarl," said Falk gently. "Do you need me to send anything up for you? Food? Drink?"

"No I don't think so," Elisif whispered. "I just – just need to be alone. Thank you, Falk."

Falk let her go as she headed back to her bedroom. Privacy, a good cry, a good night's sleep in her own bed, that was what she needed.

She went inside, closed the doors behind her, took a deep breath and leaned her head against the wood. Tonight had been horrible, but at least Delphine's insane burglary plan had worked. She likely wouldn't know the result for a few days, maybe not even a few weeks. Delphine had said to sit tight in Solitude for a few weeks until they could get hold of her. It would look suspicious otherwise. And Delphine was right, absolutely right but it still looked likely to be a nervewracking time.

Elisif stepped away for the door, heading for the bed. All the lights were out, which was odd now Elisif thought about it, but maybe the maids just hadn't expected her back early. Never mind. Just meant a chance to practice her magic. Elisif cast Candlelight, smiling as the light flared into view. She glanced at her reflection in her mirror as she did so. It probably saved her life.

She looked into the mirror and saw herself in her party gear, light hovering at her shoulder... and reflecting it back in the mirror were two eyes in the gloom beyond. Elisif screamed and darted out of the way just in time to avoid the knife thrust intended to kill her, throwing her fur cape at the intruder as she dodged.

The black and red leather-clad Argonian swore as he threw the fur to the floor, pulling his dagger clear and moving in for another strike. Unfortunately for him, Elisif wasn't the helpless little girl of a few weeks previously. Elisif was Dragonborn now, she'd seen combat, fought for her life for real, and these days when she saw reptilian features, she saw dragon and reacted accordingly.

"FUS RO DAH!" she Shouted at him, sending the Argonian flying. Dawnbreaker was gleaming away on its weapon plaque above her bed and Elisif grabbed it, casting the one mage armour spell she knew and moving in for the kill. The Argonian barely had the chance to move before Dawnbreaker stabbed down and skewered him. Then the doors burst open and Falk was there with Bolgeir and half a dozen guards at his back.

"Elisif!" he gasped, seeing the dead man on the floor in a pool of blood, and Elisif standing there with a sword in her hands looking like she was about to faint.

"Falk," Elisif whispered, feeling like she was going to be sick any second now – her room, oh gods, her own bedroom and someone had tried to – tried to... She sank on to the bed before she actually did collapse.

"Elisif," and Falk was there, sitting next to her, arms around her while Bolgeir started going over the rest of the room to make sure no one else was hiding anywhere, and the guards picked the body up and carried it away. "My gods, Elisif, what happened, are you all right?"

Elisif shook her head, shaking all over. _Someone tried to kill me. They tried to kill me in my own palace!_

"I was going to go to bed, but it was dark," she whispered. "The lamps were out, so I cast a magelight, and then I saw him in the mirror and he went for me with a sword and... and I Shouted and grabbed Dawnbreaker and killed him..."

"We heard the Shout and came running," Falk said grimly. "Gods, Elisif, if he'd killed you..."

Elisif didn't reply. She couldn't say anything, she was too choked to speak. An assassin, here, in Solitude. Dressed in red and black. She knew which group of assassins were said to wear that.

_Dark Brotherhood. Someone took out a contract with the Dark Brotherhood. Oh gods. _Everyone knew of the Dark Brotherhood, the feared guild of assassins who struck without warning and always killed the target eventually. Who never gave up, who could always find you, who didn't stop until you were dead. And now someone was paying them to kill her. She didn't know who, had no idea. Someone with money, that was for sure. Someone who might profit from it. Quite possibly someone in her own court, in fact the more she thought about it, the more she thought it had to be someone in Solitude. She'd come back from High Hrothgar different, Falk had said. Different? Not afraid any more, was how she'd come back. Less willing to be bossed around, told what to do, treated like a child. Could be someone thought this new Elisif was a liability. An inconvenience. An obstacle. Especially since the whole Meridia situation when she'd been swept into the sky in front of Captain Aldis and half the guard, deposited back outside and had to explain the situation away quickly. She'd just said it was a sign the gods were pleased with her and they'd given her the sword to help wipe out all Skyrim's foes and make Skyrim a freer, happier, better place. They'd all responded with cheers and the story had started going around that she'd been given a divine mission to heal Skyrim and purge it of corruption. She'd not minded that at all at the time... only it was beginning to occur to her not all the corruption was on Ulfric's side.

"Falk," she whispered. "Falk, when Bolgeir's finished checking the room, could I have a bit of time alone in here? I – I need to think, need to gather my wits. Suppose I need to get my things together too, I can hardly sleep in here now."

"We'll move you to the guest room once we've secured it," Falk reassured her. "And in the morning we'll have a full inquiry, I promise you."

Elisif nodded, smiling weakly as Bolgeir announced the room clear and everyone else filed out. Her smile faded as soon as the door closed, and she immediately grabbed her armour off the mannequin, swiftly getting changed. Next her weapons, then her pack of potions, coin purse, never mind food, she'd eaten at the Embassy and she could buy food anywhere. She scribbled a note to Falk, telling him she was sorry but she didn't know who to trust and needed to be somewhere safe for a bit. She truly was sorry to do this to him, the poor man would likely be worried, but for all she knew he was in on it. At least she'd sent Erandur home prior to the party, so he'd be safe, but on the other hand, she could have used the company. Never mind. It wasn't like she didn't have friends elsewhere. Delphine would likely not be pleased at her fleeing the city in terror, but it wasn't like she had much choice.

Prising the window open, Elisif climbed into the window frame, sitting awkwardly in it with her legs over the side.

"FEIM!" she cried, turning ethereal and then she was falling to the courtyard, gasping as she landed but unharmed. Guards were turning to look, drawing weapons and that was no good at all, probably they were just doing their job but what if some of them were Brotherhood agents? It was a risk she couldn't afford to take. Fortunately she had an invisibility potion on her. Knocking it back, she faded from view and fled into the night, racing for the side gate to the docks. Time to get out of Solitude before this city claimed her life as well as Torygg's.

* * *

A/N: And there's a bit of a cliffhanger, hmm? I needed a reason for Elisif to leave Solitude and then I remembered the Dark Brotherhood assassins that attack you on the road after Dragon Rising and thought 'bingo!'

Poor Razelan, I do feel very sorry for him, but he'll be all right. Especially after he hears about the break-in and realises it was part of a set-up, at which point he's too impressed to hold it against Elisif for long.


	9. Chapter 9

Summary: Elisif flees to the safety of Jorrvaskr, only to find Balgruuf's been busy and the city's not the haven she imagined. Meanwhile the Thalmor Embassy job went off without a hitch, but it occurs to Delphine just a little too late that the Thalmor have files on more than just dragons...

A/N: In which there is a little snogging (not involving Elisif), but not much else. Also the nice thing about not being bound by game mechanics is that you can change the order if you like. So I've done just that.

* * *

It was the early hours of the morning, but Delphine hadn't gone to bed. She'd only just got back from seeing Brynjolf off at the Solitude stables. A risk, going there in person, but she'd had little choice. So she'd handed him his party outfit, looked the other way as he got changed and told herself seeing Brynjolf all suited and booted and grinning at her and asking "well lass, will I do?" had definitely not had any sort of effect on her, nor was she worried about him. She just wanted this job to go well, and for her old friend Brynjolf to not get hurt, that was all.

A knock on her bedroom door and that could only be Orgnar. No one else would dare disturb her, other than Brynjolf, but she had a feeling he'd never have knocked.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Orgnar," Orgnar called back. "Delphine, you've got a visitor. Some Nord called Brynjolf."

Delphine practically leapt off the bed, wrenching the door open, barely nodding at Orgnar, who returned to the bar, hiding a knowing grin as Delphine just about stopped herself hugging Brynjolf.

"Well, you made it out alive at least," Delphine said, hiding her relief at seeing him. He shot her a smile back but it wasn't his usual cheery grin. He'd found something all right but it wasn't good news.

"I did, just about," Brynjolf said, glancing about the deserted inn. "Listen, is there somewhere we can talk...?"

Delphine let him into her room, closing the door before running to her wardrobe and unsealing the entrance to her secret room. Brynjolf followed her down, looking amazed at the supplies she'd stockpiled.

"You've got all this down here, lass? Colour me impressed, you've got a proper little headquarters!"

"It serves a purpose," was all Delphine felt like saying in answer to that. "But never mind that, what have you got for me? If it's coin you want first, I've got your money in that chest over there along with the stuff you left with me."

Brynjolf checked the chest and cleared its contents out, nodding in approval at the gold before reaching into his pocket for the Thalmor files he'd found.

"Well, I found their dragon files – turns out they don't know any more than we do."

"They don't?" Delphine took the paper marked _Dragon Investigation: Status_ and cursed at the lack of information. "Well that's not good. But they mentioned a lead, a prisoner. Did you get the chance to talk to them?"

"Yeah, turned out to be one of our guildmates, young Etienne. I wondered where he'd got to. Found the lad shackled up in one of the cells, don't think he's ever been so pleased to see me. He's safe and sound, on his way back to Riften now, and I managed to slit the throat of the worthless scum who informed on him while I was there." Brynjolf looked rather pleased with himself at that.

"What did you find out?" Delphine asked, curious. Why would the Thalmor want to interrogate one of the Guild? They surely weren't likely to be worshipping Talos in the Ratway.

"Well, there were a couple of other files too," said Brynjolf, throwing one onto the table. "One on Ulfric Stormcloak – seems he was a Thalmor asset at one point. I imagine that would fetch a pretty penny or two – you know, Delphine, it's a good thing I'm a man of honour. A lesser thief would already be blackmailing Ulfric or negotiating a price with Tullius for that. Or negotiating a price with you, for that matter."

"Yes, and a lesser thief would be getting themselves killed over it," said Delphine, folding her arms. "It's not new information to me, Brynjolf. And it's not as valuable as you think – Ulfric would just paint it as another example of Elven lies, the Stormcloaks would believe him and we'd get nowhere. And if Tullius made it public, then that would cause an incident with the Thalmor and possibly another war if they thought the Empire were behind the break-in. But thank you, we might need it yet. Anything else?"

Brynjolf left the Ulfric dossier on the table, reaching for the next one, smile fading.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Yeah there was. This one gave me quite the shock." He dropped another file on the table next to her, turned so she could read the title. The file in question was her own. Without even thinking, she made a grab for it, but Brynjolf was too quick and had it out of reach before she could get it.

"Not so fast, lass," Brynjolf said grimly and Delphine looked up at him, heart sinking as she saw the look on his face. She had no idea what he was thinking, none at all. He knew, he knew her secret and it was like looking at a stranger.

"Brynjolf," she whispered. "Bryn, give me the file. Give it to me and forget you ever saw it, it's safest for all of us that way..."

"No," Brynjolf growled, grabbing her wrist and for the first time Delphine began to actually be afraid of him. "Lass, is it true? You're the last of the Blades? Is that why you were hiding out in the Guild all that time?"

Delphine nodded, seeing no sense in denying it. "Bryn," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Bryn, let me go. Leave the file and get out of here, or I'll..." She'd drawn her dagger with her free hand, prepared to use it if she had to. Brynjolf's eyes flicked to it and he didn't look scared... just disappointed.

"Is that what it's come to, lass?" he said bitterly. "You'd stab even me to keep it secret?"

"I've killed before to stay safe," she warned him, hoping he'd take the hint.

"I don't doubt it," he replied. For a brief moment, neither moved, just watching the other to see who'd blink first. It was Brynjolf who finally spoke.

"Well. Seems we've got a few options here, haven't we lass. I could leave the file with you, bid you goodnight and take my leave, at which point I'm fairly sure you'll pack everything you own and flee into the night, never to be seen again."

"I'm all right with that option," Delphine whispered. Brynjolf just laughed.

"Or I could turn you in to the Thalmor and see if they're at all grateful for the gift."

"You wouldn't," Delphine breathed and Brynjolf did smile at that.

"No, I wouldn't, not after seeing those dungeons of theirs. Which brings me to option three..."

"What was wrong with option one?" Delphine snapped. "Look, I can pay you extra if that's what this is about..."

"It's not about the gold!" Brynjolf snapped, letting her go and shoving her away. "Ten damn years since you left the Guild, and no sign of you anywhere, nothing! Just me, wondering where you'd gone, what happened, if you were even alive still. Then you walk back in as if nothing happened and have me rob the Thalmor bloody Embassy of all places, and now I find out you're a Blade and you expect me to just leave it at that? Del, why did you never... I thought we were friends?"

"We were!" Delphine cried, infuriated. Stupid, stubborn... Brynjolf never changed, always there, always getting under her skin, always tempting her to let her guard down, throw caution to the wind, and now he was here berating her for not letting him in any further? She'd taken a risk letting him get as far as he had. "Look, you've seen what happens to Thalmor prisoners! Can you blame me for not saying anything? It could have got us both killed! It still could! Bryn, I mean it, walk away. Go back to Riften, forget this ever happened, let me go to ground again. It's better for both of us that way."

"It isn't better!" Brynjolf snapped, advancing. "Because if I do that, I know you'll vanish off the face of Nirn and I'll never see you again!"

And that was most likely true and she'd miss him horribly, she knew. But it was the only scenario that didn't risk both their lives.

"Better that than the Thalmor getting you too," she whispered. Brynjolf shook his head, actually smiling.

"I'm not afraid of the Thalmor, lass. They won't learn a thing off me. Let 'em kill me. I might even get to Sovngarde."

"Since when have you believed in Sovngarde?" Delphine said, now feeling utterly confused. Brynjolf was definitely not the true Nord type by any stretch of the imagination.

"I don't," said Brynjolf, still advancing, and Delphine found herself backed into the wall, dagger still clutched in her hand as Brynjolf leaned over her, palms against the wall.

"I could stab you quite easily from here," Delphine said softly, willing him to take the hint and leave. "One slice of my dagger – the paving slabs lift up easily enough, I could hide a body in here. No one but Orgnar saw you come here, and Orgnar's not saying anything. I mean it, Bryn. Leave it. Go. Get out of here."

"You're not going to stab me," Brynjolf said calmly, barely sparing that dagger a second glance. "You'd have done it by now if you were. You're like me, Delphine. You'll do what you have to, but you're not a murderer. You've got a code. You're not going to stab me."

Damn him for being right. And damn her for still having principles.

"What do you want?" she whispered, lowering her eyes in defeat. Fingers caressed her cheek and she could feel the warmth of his breath as he leaned in.

"What I've always wanted," he breathed, leaning closer and then he was kissing her. Delphine couldn't breathe, couldn't even react, her dagger sliding from her hand as his cupped her face. It had been so long, so long since anyone had last touched her, so long since she'd been kissed. So long alone. And it had to be said, Brynjolf wasn't bad looking. But Delphine wasn't some lovesick young girl either and she was in full possession of a functioning brain. She reached up and put her hands to Brynjolf's shoulders, pushing him away. Brynjolf let out a soft moan as his lips left hers, his hands reaching out to take hers, rubbing her fingers as he smiled sadly at her.

"Bryn," she whispered. "Bryn, I'm not sleeping with you to buy your silence."

"That wasn't what I was suggesting," said Brynjolf gently. "Listen, lass, if the answer's no, tell me and I'll do what you want and leave. But if you're at all interested... wherever you're going, whatever you're planning, take me with you. You might need me, and I don't like the idea of letting you go off on your own to do dangerous things involving dragons."

"I'm quite capable of looking after myself, Brynjolf," Delphine sighed. "I don't need a bodyguard."

"What about someone to watch your back," said Brynjolf. "All the best heists go better when you've got an accomplice. Listen lass, the sex is optional, the sex is _always_ optional. But I'd like to help. In any way I can. If you don't want me as a lover, at least let me come along for the ride. I just can't bear the thought of us going our separate ways and never seeing each other again. I missed you, lass."

"I missed you too," said Delphine softly, mentally cursing herself for being soft on him, for not telling him to leave before he brought the Thalmor down on her... but part of her didn't want him to go. It had been nice, being kissed, being held, and now he'd done it, actually made a move instead of just hinting and flirting... Delphine kept imagining what else might happen between them. Which was distracting, insane, a great way to get them both killed... but she was getting older, tired, lonely, fed up of the Thalmor taking everything. Maybe. Just maybe.

"All right," she sighed. "You can help. But I'm not having sex with you. It's a distraction I can't afford."

Brynjolf rolled his eyes but nodded, still that smirk on his face. Delphine decided a change of subject was called for.

"So, you said your man Etienne had some information. Why were the Thalmor after him?"

Brynjolf reached into his pocket for the final file, handing it over along with Delphine's own.

"Seems they were after another one of your former colleagues, a man called Esbern. He's hiding out in the Ratway, just like you were, in face we even gave him your old room. He's paying a pretty penny for no one to know he's there, but I don't think he'll mind you turning up."

Delphine grabbed the file, scanning the contents. Esbern... dragonlore expert... ex-Blade... former strategist and historian... it was him. Her old friend and mentor. Still alive after all these years.

"Esbern's alive?" she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth, and if Delphine of the Blades still remembered how to cry, she might have shed a few tears.

"Yeah," said Brynjolf, grinning at her, "and if you'd said something before, I could have reunited you months ago."

Apart from the fact she'd not needed Brynjolf for anything back then, but it didn't matter. Esbern was still alive. Brynjolf knew how to find him. The Thalmor thought he was someone of interest, which meant they had no time to lose.

"I have to find him," Delphine breathed. "You'll come with me, right?"

"Of course I will," Brynjolf said, holding out a hand to her. "Let's go find your man."

Taking his hand, pausing only to secure the Thalmor files before they left, Delphine followed him out into the night. She had an old friend to find before the Thalmor did.

* * *

Elisif spurred her horse on as she galloped across the tundra for Whiterun. She'd fled the city, stopping only to grab her personal mare from the stables and ridden off into the night, not stopping until she'd left Haafingar. There'd been a rest stop at Rorikstead, where she'd seen to her horse before sleeping at the inn for a few hours. Now she was on the road again, terrified but still surviving.

She didn't know what exactly she was going to do, but she knew who her allies were. She knew Kodlak would help, that Aela was a match for any Brotherhood assassin. Even so, she knew she wouldn't be able to stay at Jorrvaskr forever. If she stayed in one place too long, the Brotherhood would find her eventually. No, she'd need help from someone who knew all about being hunted, all about being on the run. Which meant, much as she hated to admit it, she needed Delphine. Damn it. She really didn't want to be beholden to the former Blade, but thanks to the Brotherhood and whatever coward had hired them in the first place, she had no choice.

So it was she rode on under the noonday sun, not nearly rested enough, Whiterun looming in the distance. There soon, she told herself. Not much further now. Strange though, there was something odd in the distance. Not a dragon, no – but the horizon beyond Whiterun looked... dusty. A storm brewing? No, no, it all seemed a bit nearer the ground for that. She looked a bit closer, seeing not just dust but reflections off something. Something... metallic. One big thing or lots of small things? Lots of things. Heading for Whiterun from the east.

Elisif could only think of one thing that might be kicking up that much dust that she could see it from here and have lots of shiny metallic surfaces. Heart in her mouth, she spurred her horse on faster. Ulfric Stormcloak was marching on Whiterun.

* * *

She left her horse at the stables, throwing the reins to a surprised stable-hand before sprinting for the city gates. The guards recognised Maia the Dragonborn mercenary and if a few of the brighter ones guessed she wasn't really called Maia, they kept it to themselves. Regardless, they let her in and nodded respectfully as she ran for Dragonsreach.

"Balgruuf!" she cried, having been pointed to the war room at the back of the palace. "Balgruuf, you have to get ready, Ulfric's..."

"Going to attack, I know," Balgruuf said calmly. He wasn't the only one – aside from Proventus and Irileth, there were Legionnaires everywhere, in fact now Elisif stopped to look, there were troops waiting around and couriers carrying orders. And standing around the strategy table, eyes on a plan of Whiterun and its surroundings, was Legate Rikke. Elisif stopped short, not sure whether to approach further or flee now while she still could. Unfortunately for her, Rikke had heard her voice and looked up... and smiled.

"Jarl Elisif. Good to see you, I was worried you'd vanished for good. Glad to see you're in one piece although I'd not expected you here. Is something wrong in Solitude – actually, never mind, we all have bigger problems right now. Elisif, I can't decide if this is good timing on your part or terrible timing, but the Stormcloaks are going to be here within hours. Whiterun's going to be a city under siege."

"I know, I saw the army from a distance, I came to tell the Jarl..." Elisif's voice trailed off as she realised that not only had Balgruuf known, he'd probably even expected it, and Rikke's presence could only mean... "Balgruuf, what have you done?"

"Taken a side," said Balgruuf, straightening up and starting to smile. "Come now, Elisif, don't look so shocked. True Nords don't stand idle when their home's threatened, and with half the city's youngsters flocking to the Empire's banner, all claiming they need to avenge Ulfric's slight to their beautiful Dragonborn Queen, I decided I needed to take a stand. So I've invited Legate Rikke and her Legion friends to help defend the city."

"After provoking Ulfric in the first place by sending him your axe," Rikke said tersely. "Honestly, Balgruuf, you could have consulted me first."

Elisif bit her lip, feeling tears in her eyes. Sending another warrior your axe – having it sent peacefully instead of burying it in their chest was a sign you wanted to negotiate. If the recipient kept it, it meant peace and a chance to discuss matters like civilised folk when its owner came to collect it, and once the negotiations had taken place, it would be ritually handed back with avowals of peaceful intent. But the other side of that message also meant the sender wanted an answer – the recipient had to answer in one way or another. It was a challenge as much as an invitation to speak. Sending the axe back without there having been avowals of peace or a discussion – that meant there would be none. That the axe was being returned because its owner would need it in the forthcoming fight. And Balgruuf had sent the challenge because of her.

"Balgruuf, you stupid, stupid man," Elisif whispered, blinking back the tears. "You've risked your entire city on this."

"Aye," said Balgruuf gruffly. "But we always knew it would come to this. Ulfric knew and I knew I'd never take his side. I just didn't want the war to come here either. But we're Nords, Elisif. When war is inevitable, we don't run just because it's dangerous. We'll win today or die, but at least we'll die with honour."

"You're not going to die!" was all Elisif could say before her self-control snapped and she ran up and hugged him. Balgruuf looked a bit awkward over having a pretty twenty-three year old flinging herself at him but he coped and hugged her back after a minute, before letting her go.

"I don't intend to lose either," said Balgruuf, returning his attention to the map of the city defences. "Now, you were saying, Legate? And bear in mind we just had the Dragonborn join us. Be foolish not to have her involved in some way, seeing as she's here."

What? Elisif hadn't signed up for... well, for any of this if she was honest. But joining a full-on battle?!

"Oh gods," she gasped. "You mean... fighting?"

Elisif wasn't sure whether to be insulted or relieved that Rikke's first reaction was to stifle a laugh.

"No, no, well, hopefully not anyway. But I'll be giving a rallying speech to the troops before battle, it would help to have you there."

Elisif relaxed a little. Public speaking was something she found nervewracking, but it was better than actually being on the frontlines. And speaking of doing the actual fighting...

"What about the Companions, are they helping?" she asked. Balgruuf and Rikke both went quiet, exchanging nervous looks. It was Balgruuf who finally answered.

"The Companions are above politics, Elisif," he said gently. "Kodlak has requested all his people stay out of the war, and that includes this battle. I'm sorry Elisif, but we can expect no help from Jorrvaskr. They are not aiding the Stormcloaks either, we should be thankful for that."

Thankful? But this was Whiterun, their own city, their home! "How can they just sit back and let Ulfric attack?" Elisif whispered. "How is that honourable?"

Neither Balgruuf nor Rikke answered and Elisif's heart sank as she realised that perhaps Jorrvaskr was staying out of it because most of Jorrvaskr agreed with Ulfric.

"I have to speak to Kodlak," she gasped, running for the stairs. Balgruuf watched her go, shaking his head.

"It's a hopeless task," he sighed. "I must have had this argument with Kodlak every week since war broke out. He's insistent that the war will bring honour to no one and that his people are staying out of it. I spoke to him only this morning, he's still not changing his mind. Seems to think this is my fault somehow."

Rikke was still looking at the stairway Elisif had fled down, pondering.

"Don't count them out just yet," she said thoughtfully. "Our young Dragonborn might just be able to talk him round."

* * *

Jorrvaskr was quiet when Elisif ran in. No sign of the twins, but Athis was there, trying a few moves with a sword. Njada was on the other side of Jorrvaskr, shining up a shield and pointedly ignoring the Dunmer. Torvar was drinking quietly in the middle, glancing uncomfortably between them. Elisif had already seen Vignar and Brill leaving, heading for the Grey-Mane house with Eorlund, presumably to all wait out the battle there together. Stormcloaks the lot of them, and the sad thing was, Elisif might once have gone along with the cause herself – if Ulfric hadn't killed her Torygg.

She shoved away the thought of Torygg lying dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood and went in search of Kodlak. He had to be here somewhere.

She found Aela downstairs, pacing along the central corridor, a seething bundle of nervous energy.

"Aela," Elisif gasped. "Aela, the Stormcloaks, they're..."

"Going to attack, I know," said Aela grimly. "Whole city knows it, everyone's either taking shelter in their homes or getting ready to join the defence, and what are the best warriors in Skyrim doing? _Nothing!_" Aela kicked fiercely at a nearby tankard, sending it flying into the wall and bouncing off. Elisif flinched back, never having been at ease with people being angry around her. Aela saw it and sighed, relenting a little.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, it's just very frustrating," Aela sighed. "Stormcloak sons of bitches right on our doorstep and here we are confined to Jorrvaskr. We should be out there, Elisif! Taking the fight to them! Sons of Skyrim? If my son murdered a lawful ruler, I'd be disowning him on the spot!"

Elisif closed her eyes, remembering Torygg lying on the floor in a pool of blood, going cold as she held him, eyes that had once gazed lovingly at her empty and unmoving forever.

"I know," Elisif whispered, feeling tears prickling at her eyes. Silence, and then Aela had an arm round her, holding her and looking a little regretful.

"Of course you do, sister," Aela said quietly. "I guess that's why you're here."

"I wanted to talk to Kodlak," Elisif whispered. "Talk him out of it. But if you've tried and Balgruuf tried..."

"You haven't yet." Aela patted Elisif on the shoulder, suddenly looking a bit more optimistic. "Come on, he's down the end here. Maybe you'll succeed where the rest of us failed."

Kodlak was sitting outside his room, a simple meal of bread, cheese and mead in front of him, but he'd barely touched it from the look of it. Like everyone in Jorrvaskr, he was clearly brooding. He looked up as they approached, not looking surprised to see Elisif there.

"I thought you might be here, lass," he said, sounding surprisingly calm considering there was an invading army on the way.

"I'm not meant to be," Elisif admitted. "But I had to leave Solitude in a hurry and came here... and now I find out Ulfric's on his way? Or his army anyway."

"I know," said Kodlak, still not looking at her. "So, Elisif, what can I do for you? Did Balgruuf send you? I already told him we don't get involved in politics."

"This isn't about politics!" Elisif cried, willing him to listen, to understand. Maybe Jorrvaskr was a little depleted but even so, Aela alone was a tough proposition for anyone. "Kodlak, the Stormcloaks are coming here! Today! They'll be here by tonight and we'll be under siege!"

"Yes, and the Jarl's guards are ready," said Kodlak. "In fact, some would say the Jarl's particular methods of declaring his allegiances brought this on us all the sooner."

"You don't know Ulfric if you don't think this wouldn't have happened eventually," Elisif said grimly. "Balgruuf was never going to side with him."

"I know," Kodlak sighed. "I respect him for taking a stand, and it's his right to bring the Legion here, but I'm not getting involved. He's not using Jorrvaskr to bolster his cause."

Elisif felt her heart sink as she realised she'd been right. Jorrvaskr had more than its fair share of Stormcloak sympathisers and she had a horrible feeling Kodlak was one.

"You support Ulfric," she whispered. Kodlak did look up at that, bristling.

"I did not say that!" he snapped. "Lass, he's a deeply flawed man and I don't think he'd make a good king – you can't take power by murdering the previous incumbent, such is not our way. But I'm no longer sure the Empire has Skyrim's best interests at heart either."

Nor was Elisif if she was entirely honest, but she was also smart enough to know Skyrim and the Empire needed each other, now more than ever. And right here, right now in Whiterun, the city needed the Legion at its back or it would fall.

"This isn't about the Empire, Kodlak," Elisif said softly. "It's not about Talos or who should be king or anything like that. It's about protecting your city. When they lay siege to this place, if they get past the defences, this entire city will be in danger. All the innocent civilians who don't care about the war or politics, you think that will matter if the Stormcloaks get inside? You know what Ulfric's like, anyone who isn't for him is against him. His troops could put half this city to the sword. Anyone who was an outspoken Imperial supporter, anyone who isn't a Nord, anyone who just got in the way. Kodlak, please. You don't have to join my side, you don't have to declare me the rightful High Queen. Just help protect Whiterun. Please."

Kodlak was staring at her, surprised. Then he got to his feet, beckoning for her to follow.

"You might just be the first person to ask me for help in this on behalf of the people of Whiterun instead of in the Empire's name or in order to stop Ulfric," said Kodlak, looking at her in approval. "And you're certainly the first to say please. Come on. I need to address the others."

Torvar, Athis and Njada were still upstairs, Athis and Njada pointedly ignoring each other still. Elisif stayed close to Aela, both watching as Kodlak strode to the centre of the room, drawing everyone's attention without even trying.

"Brothers, sisters," Kodlak said, surveying what remained of the Companions, troubled look in his eyes. "As you no doubt are aware, the war's finally come here. Ulfric Stormcloak's on his way and he'll be laying siege to this city within hours."

Silence. No one with ears could fail to have heard about it, and if Elisif listened closely, she could hear it in the distance now, the throbbing thud of hoofbeats.

"As you know, I have said on many occasions that when Nord fights Nord like this, no one wins and no one emerges with any honour," Kodlak continued. "I still stand by that. No one wins in this war, and I will not have Shield-Brothers and Sisters joining opposite sides and meeting on the battlefield." He paused and then spoke again. "However."

Elisif held her breath. Had he changed his mind?

"However what?" Athis asked warily. All three were looking curious and next to Elisif, Aela seemed hopeful – almost gleeful.

"The war's coming here, and should Whiterun's walls fall, I don't think Ulfric's troops will care who they kill," said Kodlak softly. "We fight so that others do not have to, that is our watchword. We risk our lives to protect the innocent, and I will not have it said that when war came to Whiterun, Jorrvaskr stood idle and that the Companions hid away. So while I still say you should not join up with either side... if your honour demands that you go join the defence of this city then go with my blessing. I will not stop you."

Athis had sat bolt upright, grin spreading across his face.

"Let me get my good armour," he laughed, before rushing off to get his things. Torvar had also sat up, blinking blearily at Kodlak.

"So what, we can join the war now?" he asked, confused.

"Not exactly," said Kodlak, smiling a little. "But the war's come to us. For this battle only, if you want to go and help the Whiterun guards, I won't stop you."

"Well all right then!" Torvar laughed. "Hey Athis, wait for me!" He ran off after Athis to track down all his gear. Meanwhile Njada had got to her feet, face like thunder.

"What, so we can join the Legion for a bit if honour demands it, but not Ulfric's side? What of my honour, Kodlak?"

"Njada," Kodlak sighed. "This isn't about politics, it's about protecting our city. You don't have to go."

"Oh, I know what it's about all right," Njada snapped bitterly. She glared at Elisif, not even bothering to hide her disdain. "She has you wrapped around her little finger, Harbinger." Getting up, she stormed off to the courtyard, no doubt to carve up some helpless training dummies.

Kodlak sighed, shrugged his shoulders and turned back to Elisif, looking resigned.

"It's the best I can offer, lass," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's more than I ever hoped for," Elisif gasped, not sure what to say. The Companions were going to help! It wasn't even the extra sword-arms – three warriors wouldn't turn the tide of battle alone. But the effect it would have on those who fought alongside them, of Ysgramor's heirs joining the fight... It would help. It might just be the thing to give them the edge. "I just hope it hasn't caused trouble for you." She'd not forget Njada's angry face in a hurry. Kodlak just sighed, his heart heavy.

"From the day word came in of the High King's death and I had to break up a particularly violent fist-fight involving her, Athis and Ria, I knew it would come to this," Kodlak sighed. "She lost her parents in the Great War and was raised by a Talos-worshipping aunt and uncle who were later taken prisoner by the Thalmor. She's hated the Empire for letting it happen ever since. Frankly, I'm surprised she never ran off to join Ulfric weeks or months before, but she had sufficient respect for me to stay quiet and stay here."

"Not any more," said Elisif softly. She'd seen the hatred in Njada's eyes and it had chilled her. There could be trouble ahead and she was no longer sure Jorrvaskr was the safe place it had once been. But there was little she could do about it now.

"You leave Njada to me, lass," said Kodlak gently. "You have bigger problems to worry about, such as the battle to come. You should get back to Dragonsreach, tell them Jorrvaskr will answer. But you also be sure to tell Balgruuf I'm not doing it for him either. I'm doing this for the innocent townsfolk of Whiterun."

"I know. I'll tell him. Thank you," Elisif whispered. She stopped to give Kodlak a hug then left the hall, arranging to meet with Aela up at Dragonsreach once she was ready. They had a battle to prepare for.

* * *

The Stormcloaks had arrived in the late afternoon and the city had locked its gates, terrified residents from the outlying farms fleeing inside the gates or off to Rorikstead and Riverwood. The bombardment had started not long after, catapults lobbing fire into the city all night. Hardly anyone had slept, residents fleeing their homes to take refuge in Dragonsreach or alternately joining the volunteer fire-fighting crews that had formed.

Morning came and Elisif could weep to see the smoking city. The walls were standing – just. But the sentries had sent word of troops massing outside.

"Ulfric's not got the men or the supplies for a drawn-out siege," Rikke said as she led Elisif out to the front gate for a pre-battle speech. "Winter's fast approaching, he won't be able to live off the land for long. It's difficult to get supplies out here too – the roads between here and Eastmarch aren't good. He'll be relying on taking the city quickly. So we're going to make sure that doesn't happen. Also we have a few reinforcements on the way. If we can hold out until they get here, we can win this. But we need to hold. We need to keep people's morale up. That's where you come in."

"I hope you're not expecting miracles," Elisif sighed. "I'm just me. I'm not a mighty warrior like Ulfric is."

"You can Shout," said Rikke, sounding far more confident than she had any right to.

"I know precisely four, only one of which might be any possible use to you in this conflict!" Elisif protested. "I can't call an army of dragons out of the sky to deal with the Stormcloaks!"

"I don't expect you to," Rikke replied. "With any luck, we won't need it."

The combined Legion and city guard force was amassing outside the gates, manning the outer walls and barricades. The Stormcloaks hadn't attacked yet, but it was clear they were gathering.

"All right, soldiers!" Rikke shouted, parading in front of her troops like the seasoned commander she was. "This is it! This is an important day for the Empire and for the Legion. And for all of Skyrim. This is the day we send a message to Ulfric Stormcloak and the rebel Jarls who support him. But make no mistake. What we do here today, we do for Skyrim and her people. By cutting out the disease of this rebellion, we will make this country whole again! We will heal our divided land and reunite our people under the true High Queen, Elisif Dragonborn!"

Massed cheering and it was all Elisif could do to force a smile and wave back to the gathered soldiers. Then Rikke was nudging her in the side.

"Say something," she murmured. Say something? Elisif truly had no idea what to say, she wasn't a gifted speech-giver or anything. Then her eyes fell on a red-haired figure elbowing her way to the front, and a Dunmer and Nord behind her. The Companions, coming to support her. Elisif took one look at Aela and felt her nerves easing. She wasn't without friends here. She'd talked Kodlak into sending help, and it was then that Elisif knew what to say.

"Thank you, Legate," she began, feeling a little nervous but doing it anyway. "We're here today to help reunite and heal Skyrim, yes, and to avenge my husband too. We're going to teach Ulfric that you don't get to be High King just by murdering your predecessor!"

That got a roar of approval and Elisif couldn't help but smile at that. Ulfric was a man you either loved or hated, and there weren't many Ulfric lovers in this crowd.

"But it's not just about the war," she continued. "It's not just for the Empire! It's not just about bringing peace and healing our country, or about revenge. Here, now, on this day, it's about the city of Whiterun, a city full of innocent men, women and children, many of whom don't care about the war or the politics or who's in charge of Skyrim. It's about keeping that city, all those people, safe from Ulfric's forces. It's about stopping the Stormcloaks from getting in and killing them all, because they won't care who backs the Empire and who doesn't! Ulfric says that anyone who's not for him is against him, which means once his troops get inside, it'll be a bloodbath! That's why we're doing this today, that's why we're fighting. We're fighting so the innocent people of Whiterun can get on with their lives in peace! We're fighting so that others don't have to! We're doing this to defend ourselves and our city and we are going to win this day! Because that lot are fighting to further Ulfric's ambitions while we're fighting to bring the war he started to an end! That is why we are here and that is why we will fight to keep this city safe or die trying! When this day is done, we will have victory or we will be with our ancestors in Sovngarde, nothing else! Because we are true Nords and we will NEVER back down!"

The roar that greeted this could have shaken the very heavens and Elisif blinked, suddenly coming back to herself as she realised everyone was cheering and Rikke was patting her on the back.

"Well done!" Rikke laughed. "See, that was exactly what I was after! You're a natural."

"Oh. Oh, that's... good?" Elisif said faintly. Truth be told, she wasn't sure where all that had come from. But it had felt right to say it, and she'd felt the dragon within howling approval all the way. Looking at the troops below, it seemed to have done its job. Time now to retreat to Dragonsreach and wait.

"Legate!" one of the look-outs called. "They're coming!"

"Barricades! Now!" Rikke shouted, running towards the gates as everyone made for their own positions. Heart in her mouth, Elisif ran to the top of the outer gate to get a better look, feeling her blood go cold as Stormcloaks poured up the road towards the city, all screaming for blood.

She should be terrified – she i_was/i _terrified. But her words of earlier hadn't left her. There was a city full of innocents at her back, and she would protect them or die trying. And if she died, Sovngarde awaited and she'd have Torygg back.

The dragon within definitely seemed to approve of that. Elisif took a deep breath as the Stormcloak horde drew nearer. They would not take this strunmah.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The Thu'um lashed out, sending the first wave of soldiers reeling, and the Legion troops howled in awe, pressing home the sudden advantage with a volley of arrows, and a few brave souls racing out to get some easy kills in. Visions of Torygg flashed in her mind again and Elisif staggered back, feeling nauseous. May the gods forgive her for what she did this day. She wasn't sure she'd ever forgive herself.

* * *

Screaming, blood, the clashing of swords and the smell of smoke. Elisif must have spent more time dodging and running rather than fighting, but she wasn't going to flee. They'd got past the barricades, even got the drawbridge down, if she hammered on the gate to be let in now, they'd surely follow. She wasn't going to be the one responsible for letting the Stormcloaks in to Whiterun, she just wasn't.

And so she dodged and weaved and Shouted and even got a few blows in herself when some of them got close. Not that they did. Elisif was staying close to Legate Rikke and that nice young Captain Hadvar, and the Companions never seemed to be far away either. Aela's arrows zinged through the air to take down enemies from afar while Athis and Torvar were carving into the oncoming soldiers. Really, Elisif had hardly had to do much herself. This was probably for the best.

And so the battle wore on, the sun moving across the sky, and Elisif's strength was fading, her stamina potions used up, her arms feeling like they were on fire.

"Come on," she heard Aela whisper. "Courage, sister, we can do this."

No she couldn't, she really couldn't, she just wanted to sleep, run away, hide. But the Stormcloaks were still coming, and then she looked up to see one of the generals leaping off the wall.

"There she is!" the bear-skin clad warrior cried, greatsword raised. "The pretender queen herself! Surrender now and Ulfric will be merciful."

Merciful? Ulfric would never show her mercy. She'd got too renowned in her own right for that. At best, he'd make her consort so at least he could share the glory. At worst... he'd see his rival killed.

"Never!" she cried, raising Dawnbreaker and her ebony war axe with the last of her strength. "You want this city, you come through me!"

Brave words indeed, her inner dragon roared in approval – but it was only an inner dragon and she didn't actually have wings or claws or anything. The Stormcloak general just growled and ran straight for her. Elisif gave a little scream and swung Dawnbreaker.

It didn't connect properly but Torvar's blade did, the big Nord springing from out of nowhere and his greatsword neatly upending the Stormcloak. Before he could get up, Athis was there, shoving his sword into the man's back, finishing him off.

"Thank you," Elisif gasped, about ready to collapse.

"No problem," Athis said, wiping his brow. "You just concentrate on not dying, we'll take care of the rest." Together, both men turned and ran back into the battle, but there didn't seem to be as much going on. The death of the general seemed to have broken Stormcloak morale and there was a warhorn sounding in the distance. Legionnaires and guards were all running to the outer gates and there weren't any living Stormcloaks around.

"What's going on?" Elisif whispered, looking around. Not far away, Aela was lowering her bow, face aglow.

"That's a retreat call," she laughed. "They're retreating. We won, Elisif, we won!"

"We – we did?" Elisif gasped. She scrambled up to the top of the walls, looking out on the Stormcloak camp, watching the few remaining Stormcloaks grabbing their things and fleeing, a few braver ones fighting a desperate rearguard action as the Whiterun defenders tore into the place.

"We did it," Elisif whispered. "We won! Aela, we won!" She cried out that last and Aela laughed as she took Elisif in her arms, swinging her round and then hugging her tight.

"We won, little sister," Aela murmured, ruffling Elisif's hair and leading her away to a quiet corner where she could sit down and start healing a few wounds she'd picked up. Elisif surveyed all the bodies lying around, brave men and women from both sides who would never fight again. Hard to feel too jubilant in the face of such death, and Whiterun still had smoke pouring from it. It would take a long time to rebuild. But Ulfric had tried and Ulfric had failed, and Elisif had survived. For now, it was enough.

* * *

Despite the destruction and the dead to bury, Whiterun still had time to celebrate. Jarl Balgruuf gave a speech to the assembled troops and citizens, including three Companions with their arms draped around each other who'd already got started on the mead.

Elisif was up alongside him, smiling faintly and hoping the feeling of nausea would go away soon and that she wouldn't actually collapse in front of everyone. She let Balgruuf do the talking – she'd already given a speech beforehand after all.

"For the Empire!" she cried as he finished, the gathered audience taking up the refrain and cheering. Finally they were done. Elisif staggered down from the walls, Balgruuf not far behind her, looking delighted.

"We did it!" he laughed, patting her on the back. "We sent them packing, eh Elisif?"

"We?" Elisif queried, sure she'd have nightmares about this for weeks. "You were in your palace! I was out there fighting!"

Balgruuf's face darkened at that. "Yes. Yes you were. Damn it, Elisif, what were you thinking? You were supposed to just give a rallying speech to the troops and get back inside! _You _were never supposed to be in danger! I'd even organised an escape route out of Whiterun with Kodlak for you in case the city fell!"

"Well, the Stormcloaks attacked before I could get inside!" Elisif snapped. "What was I supposed to do, Balgruuf, run away? Some Nord queen I'd be if a battle started and I ran off to let others die for me!"

"You're not a warrior, Elisif!" Balgruuf cried, and that rankled. Dawnbreaker was glowing at her side, memories of all the people she'd fought, dragons she'd killed, Draugr laid to rest, necromancers put down, all passing before her eyes, and she realised that an awful lot of people had died at her hands just lately. Not a warrior?

"I am a _Dragonborn,_ Balgruuf!" Elisif growled, glaring at him. "These past few weeks, I've been killing people left, right and centre! Maybe I'm not a seasoned veteran, but I'm not unblooded any more either!"

Balgruuf was staring at her, and Elisif realised she'd raised her voice sufficiently that so were a number of other people. Balgruuf shook himself down and recollected himself.

"No, no, you're not, my apologies. You're right, it's not my place to tell you how to lead. All the same... I worry. You know, if you die, there's no one else to be queen, you know. You don't have any heirs."

No, she didn't and Balgruuf couldn't even begin to know how much that in particular gnawed at her heart. Not because of her duty to Skyrim... but because of a private grief that lay at Ulfric's door as much as the more public one that had started the war. Because of the longed-for baby that she'd miscarried in the days after Torygg died. No one had known, she'd only told Torygg the morning he'd died. He'd been ecstatic, actually cried as he'd held her and kissed her. They'd decided to wait to make the announcement, perhaps see a priest and make sure she really was pregnant first, but Elisif was sure she had been. Then Ulfric had come and... well, she wasn't pregnant any more. She'd been so happy and by the time night had fallen she'd lost everything she cared about.

"We are not having this conversation," she gasped, tears in her eyes as she walked away. Balgruuf cursed quietly before hurrying after her.

"Elisif, wait, I'm sorry!" Balgruuf gasped. "I didn't mean... I didn't mean to remind you of Torygg!"

"Too late," Elisif whispered, feeling tears rolling down her face, memories of strong arms round her, kisses in the sunshine, holding hands while he held court, taking tours of Solitude and meeting the people of Haafingar, being told how lovely they looked together and that they'd be sure to have some beautiful children. All gone, all torn apart in a day of blood.

Mara, but she needed to be alone before she burst into tears. Fortunately Irileth was there hauling Balgruuf back and then Aela, thank the gods, Aela was there, taking her in her arms and holding her, letting Elisif cry on her shoulder, rubbing her back and leading her away.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No problem, little sister," came the reply. "Come on, let's get you back to Jorrvaskr. Kodlak will be relieved you're not dead."

Some part of Elisif was sad she wasn't. Some part of her would have welcomed Sovngarde. But it wasn't to be, not yet. Still, Ulfric wasn't dead yet. She'd stay alive long enough to see Torygg avenged. But after that... well, let Ulfric's guards take her after that. She'd meet death with open arms.

* * *

Torvar and Athis were still out in Whiterun celebrating and Njada was nowhere to be seen when they got back to Jorrvaskr. The Grey-Manes were clearly all still back at their house, which just left Tilma and Kodlak in the main room.

Tilma patted Elisif's hand when she saw her, smiled gently and settled her at the table next to Kodlak and poured her a mead, before leaving to get a bed put together for her. Elisif nodded gratefully, sipping her mead and wishing all of it would just go away, the blood, the death, the memories, everything.

"Well, looks like you made it, lass," said Kodlak, patting her on the shoulder. "What of Torvar and Athis, are they...?"

"Still alive, Harbinger," said Aela, sitting on Elisif's other side. "Out there helping to celebrate, I doubt we'll see either until morning. But it's done and we're alive and Balgruuf's still Jarl."

Faint smile from Kodlak. "Good," he said and he sounded like he actually meant it. "Vignar won't be pleased, he's Ulfric's through and through, but Balgruuf's a good man and a good Jarl. He has the city's interests at heart. While you won't find me celebrating an Imperial victory, I'm not displeased either. And as for you, girl, I'm very glad you're not dead. What's all this I hear about you being in the fighting?"

So then Elisif had to tell the story, and while she didn't feel she'd done anything so terribly heroic or been anything other than an average fighter at best, Kodlak actually seemed proud.

"But I hardly did anything," Elisif protested. Kodlak just smiled.

"Maybe you weren't in the worst of it, but the fact remains you were there and you didn't die. Well done, lass. Lass? Are you all right?"

Elisif shook her head, tears rolling down her face. "No!" she cried. "No, I'm not all right, I ran away from Solitude because the Dark Brotherhood were trying to kill me, and then I get here where I was hoping I'd be safe for a bit and then I find the Stormcloaks are here and there's a battle? Of course I'm not all right!"

"The Dark Brotherhood?" Aela breathed. "Elisif, you never told me this!" Kodlak likewise had turned full on to face her.

"The filthy cowards," he growled. "Who would dare call them in?"

"I don't know," Elisif whispered tearfully. "It could be anyone!"

"Well, it's no one in Jorrvaskr, I can promise you that," said Aela fiercely, stroking Elisif's hair. "Kodlak, she can stay here, can't she?"

"Ordinarily, I'd say yes of course," Kodlak sighed. "But Elisif, the entire city knows you're here, they just saw you lead troops into battle."

"I didn't lead anyone!" Elisif protested but Aela brushed that right off.

"Of course you did, you stood up there and gave a pre-battle speech and you fought alongside them, they'll all be singing of Elisif the mighty Dragonborn warrior queen tonight."

"Oh gods," Elisif whispered, not feeling at all mighty. "So what do I do? Word will get round, if I'm not in Solitude, this is the first place they'll look!"

"I don't know, Elisif," Kodlak sighed. "If I had more people, if the twins would come back from whatever insane venture they're on... but no matter. Elisif, could you go back to High Hrothgar? If you went there in secret, the trail might grow cold..."

"The hunt won't go away though, will it?" Elisif sighed. "And I can't hide with the Greybeards forever. We're Nords, we're Companions, we face our problems head on!"

"Well said," said Kodlak, patting her hand proudly. "I'd help, we all would... if only we knew where their Sanctuary was. Do you think anyone in the Legion would know?"

Elisif didn't know and wasn't hopeful. The Legion didn't concern itself with local law enforcement issues. No, what she needed was someone in an entirely different agency. Someone used to watching from the shadows, making things happen from behind the scenes. Someone good at ferreting out secrets.

"No," said Elisif softly. "But I know someone who might. Kodlak, can I stay here tonight? I'm exhausted and need to rest, and this place is probably safer than Dragonsreach. But tomorrow, well, there's someone not too far from Whiterun who might be able to help."

"Yes," said Aela thoughtfully, "I do believe she might. I'll come with you tomorrow. Someone should be watching your back, make sure you get there in one piece."

Elisif squeezed Aela's hand in gratitude. Maybe she was in danger, maybe half of Skyrim was out to get her... but she still had her allies. Things weren't as dire as they seemed.

* * *

A/N: And next chapter the main quest reconvenes as everyone meets up in Riverwood and plans their next move. I think you will enjoy it. :)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: This chapter. Oh my word, this chapter. The key character in this one wasn't even supposed to be in this fic, but he managed to worm his way in anyway. On the other hand, it was a lot of fun to write.

Also, questions, questions, there have been questions! First, the title. Does it refer to Potema - no. The symbol for Solitude that's on all the shields and the map of Skyrim is the wolf's head, and Potema got that Wolf Queen nickname because she was Queen of Solitude, the wolf city. However, it could be used to refer to any queen in Solitude, and Elisif as Jarl and High Queen to be would definitely be that. So the awakening wolf queen of the title is Elisif herself.

Secondly, is the Thieves Guild questline going to be in this - sadly, no. The thing with the Thieves Guild questline is that it's quite long and involved and really needs to be its own fic. It also doesn't tie in with any of the other questlines - you could change the date to ten years before or ten years after the events of the Dragon Year and nothing would change, which means it doesn't really go well with other faction fics. One day I may do something Guild-related, but it won't be this one.

Finally, am I going to kill the entire Dark Brotherhood (with subtextual pleas of please don't kill Cicero or Madanach) - this chapter will hopefully go some way to answering that one. I won't lie, there will be rather a lot of Dark Brotherhood members dying... but I can't kill my boys. Not include them perhaps, but murdering them on page? I don't think I could bring myself to do it. The Jester and the King are safe. :)

Summary: Elisif turns to her Blades for help, and receives a couple of new allies and a place to run to. However, it's the encounter none of them expected that might just prove the most useful of all.

* * *

Morning found Elisif saying goodbye to Kodlak, leaving a note for Balgruuf saying she had urgent business elsewhere and couldn't stay but that she was sorry for getting upset at him the previous day. Then Aela was sneaking her out of a secret tunnel under the Skyforge, whispering for her not to tell anyone any of this was here, and the two of them were fleeing south to Riverwood in the early pre-dawn light.

The sun was up by the time they reached the Sleeping Giant and while a few villagers were up and about, the place was still quiet. Delphine was nowhere in sight, but Orgnar pointed them at her bedroom.

"She said to send you both in if you turned up," Orgnar told Elisif. "She only just got back in herself late last night, mind. Had to leave in a hurry on an urgent trip east. You're lucky you caught her."

Elisif thanked him and pushed the door open. A very loud and ominous creaking sound echoed through the inn as she did.

"Oh yeah," Orgnar grinned. "It does that. I keep offering to oil it for her, but she keeps saying no. I think she makes it do that on purpose."

Sure enough, it had woken Delphine, who was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes and blinking in the sunlight.

"What – El – Maia?" she asked, recollecting herself in time and glaring at Elisif as her eyes focused on the young Jarl. "You are supposed to be in Solitude!"

This. This was why Elisif hadn't wanted to come.

"Well, something came up and I had to leave in a hurry," Elisif hissed, closing the door behind her once Aela and she were both inside. "And a good thing I did, the Stormcloaks attacked Whiterun!"

"What?" That had Delphine's attention. Flinging herself out of bed and reaching for her leather armour, the Breton woman was now fully awake. "What happened? Is the city still standing?"

"Don't worry," Aela grinned. "The city held. Balgruuf had the good sense to send to the Legion for help, we sent the Stormcloaks packing."

Delphine sat back down on the bed, pulling on her boots and looking relieved. "Good. If Whiterun had fallen... I haven't always seen eye to eye with Balgruuf, and Ulfric and I go way back. But Ulfric's playing right into Thalmor hands with this war – well, that shouldn't surprise me. But never mind. You both look fine and Whiterun's still standing, so that's the main thing. I imagine you want to know how the job at the Embassy went, don't you?"

Among other things, yes. Elisif nodded and Delphine got up and went to her wardrobe, flinging it open and unlocking the door.

"Come on," she said, motioning for them both to head down the tunnel. "We've got a lot to discuss."

Elisif followed Delphine, looking around her in awe at the secret cellar filled with secret supplies.

"How much stuff have you got in here?" she whispered.

"Enough," was all Delphine would say to that. "Now, I hope you don't mind, but I've got a couple of guests staying over. I believe you've already met one of them."

Two men were lying on bedrolls on the floor, one old man in a filthy tunic that had once been white, and the other a familiar face in black leather armour this time.

"Hello there, lass," 'Ragnar' grinned as he got to his feet, brushing the dust off his clothes. "Good to see you again. You're looking well. Recovered from your big night at the Embassy?"

"I'm still not interested," Elisif growled, folding her arms and glaring at him. Maybe Delphine trusted him, that didn't mean Elisif was going to. He was clearly some sort of rogue – no one who'd spent their entire life on the right side of the law would have got in and out of the Thalmor Embassy as easily as he'd appeared to.

"_Brynjolf,_" Delphine sighed as she made her way over to the table. "Elisif's a young woman of refined tastes, she doesn't need _you_ bothering her."

"Jealous, are we?" Brynjolf smirked. Delphine glared back, narrowing her eyes.

"No," she said, scowling. "I just don't want to see anyone here hassling the Dragonborn, am I clear?"

"Crystal," Brynjolf said, but his smile didn't fade and he kept watching Elisif curiously. Elisif made a mental note to keep an eye on this one. He was clearly trouble.

"Brynjolf here's an old friend of mine with extensive experience of infiltration and retrieval," Delphine continued. "There was no one else I trusted with the job and after finding out what was at stake, he's decided to join up and give us a hand. Brynjolf, this is Jarl Elisif, as you know, although only between us. When we're among outsiders, she goes by the name of Maia and is just a humble mercenary."

"Not terribly humble in that get up," Brynjolf said, looking her over. "That gear's rather nice, and as for that glowing sword..." He actually whistled. "Nice piece of kit you've got there, lass."

"Quite," said Elisif tersely. "But it's the only gear I have so it stays."

"Oh, I wasn't suggesting you give it up," Brynjolf said, looking thoughtful. "Only it's likely to attract attention if you walk around populated areas."

"What, like thieves, you mean?" Aela said, remembering where she'd seen armour like Brynjolf's before.

"It's not the thieves that bother me," Elisif said, shivering as she remembered that Argonian assassin.

"Nor should it be," said Delphine, calling them all to attention again. "We've all got bigger problems than petty thieving to worry about. Aela, welcome back. Good to have you back with us. Is your presence likely to be temporary or permanent?"

Aela leaned forward, resting her hands on the table opposite Delphine. "Let's just say I think Elisif is going to need my help for a while longer, and I'm not sure I want to leave her alone with these two strangers when I don't know who they are."

"In that case, we're glad to have you aboard," said Delphine, lips quirking in a smile. While it was clear she didn't entirely approve of Aela's reasoning, it was also clear they needed all the help they could get. "Brynjolf, Esbern, this is Aela the Huntress, one of the Companions. I've already introduced Brynjolf, but Esbern here is an old friend of mine from... from before. He's the greatest dragonlore expert the Blades had and he's who the Thalmor were trying to find. Fortunately we got to him first. Esbern... this is Elisif. The Dragonborn."

"The Dragonborn," Esbern breathed, stepping forward into the light so Elisif could see him clearly for the first time. Nord, like her, must be in his sixties if not older, clearly having had a rough life if the state of his clothes was anything to go by. He must have been on the run from the Thalmor too. Elisif felt a wave of sympathy for the man. Not easy being on the run for anyone, but at his time of life, he deserved better.

"Is it true, what Delphine says? You can really Shout? Really take a dragon's soul?" Esbern was gazing at her in awe, as if she was the answer to his prayers. Elisif nodded, smiling herself at the genuine delight on his face.

"It's true. I really can," Elisif promised. "If we run into a dragon, I'll show you although I hope we don't."

"I hope so too, although I fear it will be otherwise," Esbern sighed. "But never mind that, you're Dragonborn! This is marvellous news! The world isn't doomed! There is hope! Young lady, you can't even begin to understand what this means for us all."

"Here we go," Delphine sighed, rolling her eyes. "Elisif, you'll have to bear with him, he's a little... well, he's got some odd ideas, that's all."

"You won't be quite so flippant when I'm proved right, and so far I have been," Esbern said, reaching into his pack for some books. "Here, the prophecy in the Book of the Dragonborn. Once something all Blades knew by heart, although in recent years it appears most of them have been pre-occupied with other matters." This was followed by a pointed glare at Delphine, and Elisif decided she liked this Esbern. She sidled over, looking over his shoulder at the prophecy he indicated.

"_When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_

_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped_

_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_

_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn._"

Esbern stood back after reading it out, indicating the words. "It's all come true, you know. The Imperial Simulacrum, the Warp in the West, the fall of the Tribunal and the Red Year, the Oblivion Crisis, the fall of the Imperial City and... well, the last two lines speak for themselves."

When the Snow Tower lay sundered, kingless and bleeding. Skyrim, ripped apart by civil war and with no king. Ulfric had a lot to answer for, she knew that... but the return of the World-Eater?

"Wait, Alduin the World-Eater?" Elisif gasped. "The dragon that will eat the world at the end of time?" She felt her knees tremble as she saw Esbern nod, entirely serious. "He's _real?_" she gasped.

"Oh yes, quite real," Esbern confirmed. "If my suspicions are correct, it was him who tore Helgen apart and has been raising the others."

Elisif remembered the black dragon that had been at that dragon mound near Dawnstar and felt sick to the stomach. Alduin the World-Eater, real and here, working to bring about the end of the world, and what was worse... it seemed she was the only one who could stop it.

"I have to kill Alduin or the world's doomed," she whispered, horrified. Esbern nodded sadly.

"I'm afraid so. But Delphine and I are Blades, sworn to the service of the Dragonborn and we'll help you any way we can. Won't we, Delphine?"

"Absolutely," Delphine promised, smiling for once, and for once, Elisif actually thought it might just be genuine. It was only Brynjolf looking nervous.

"Hey now, I didn't sign on for killing dragons, lass," he protested. Delphine shot him a sly grin, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not, you're a killer shot with a bow, Bryn," she laughed. "But don't worry, it's not all dragonslaying and providing bodyguard services to the Dragonborn. There's always been a covert ops side of things too. I'm sure we'll need your skills for that."

"I'm all right with dragonslaying and guarding the Dragonborn," said Aela, placing a hand on Elisif's shoulder. Elisif squeezed it, feeling reassured already.

"Thank you," Elisif whispered. "I don't know what to say."

"Maybe you should perhaps wait until you've heard what else Esbern has to say before passing judgement," Delphine told her. "Esbern, tell her what you told me earlier."

"Mmm? Oh! Yes, quite. Well, much of the ancient Akaviri dragonlore of the Blades was lost when the Thalmor sacked Cloud Ruler Temple, but I was able to save a few things. In particular, I kept this." He placed a book on the table called _Annals of the Dragonguard_.

"What is it?" Elisif whispered. She'd vaguely heard of the Dragonguard but didn't know if their records would be any good. They'd never fought the World-Eater, after all.

"The records of our Akaviri predecessors, from back in the First Era," Esbern told her. "The Skyrim Dragonguard had a great temple in the Reach, Sky Haven Temple – look, here it is on the map."

"I know where that is," Delphine said thoughtfully. "That's the Karthspire mountain, on a big island in the middle of the Karth river."

"I know it too," said Aela grimly. "It's the home of one of the bigger Forsworn camps. We had to retrieve a stolen heirloom from there last year, the place is tough. Farkas barely made it out alive, and we'd already lost a younger recruit on that job previously. They've got a Hagraven, Delphine, and she's tough even by Hagraven standards."

Forsworn... Elisif felt her blood chill at the thought. She'd heard of them, who hadn't? The bloodthirsty marauders who roamed the hills and valleys of the Reach, robbing caravans, killing travellers, attacking outlying settlements, known for their hatred of the Nords and for worshipping strange gods and consorting with Hagravens. They were tough, violent, fanatical and in addition to wielding primitive stone weapons with a deadly skill, they were nearly all gifted in the use of magic. Torygg had told her all about them, speaking of them with a viciousness and hate that she rarely heard him use for anyone else, calling them murderers and madmen, little better than animals. Now she'd have to fight her way past them?

"Why do we need to go to Sky Haven Temple?" she asked, wondering if there was a better option available. Yes it was a secure base from the sounds of it, but surely there were other options?

Esbern flicked the book open and tapped another paragraph.

"Because it's the home of Alduin's Wall," Esbern said, looking triumphantly at them all as if that was supposed to mean something to them. He was to be disappointed.

"You mean you've not heard of Alduin's Wall? Any of you?"

Blank looks on all faces, but it was Delphine who answered.

"Let's say we haven't," she said delicately. "What's Alduin's Wall and how does it help us with the dragons?"

"It's a great work of art, a legendary example of ancient Akaviri stonework – really, I'm surprised none of you have heard of it..."

"Esbern," Delphine sighed. "Please. The point?"

"The point? Right, yes, of course, I'm coming to that," said Esbern, recollecting himself. "The point is, Alduin's Wall is where the ancient Akaviri set down in stone all their accumulated dragon lore, including the defeat of Alduin himself at the end of the Dragon War. If we can find Alduin's Wall, it may tell us how they did it and we can use the same methods they did."

A slim chance, Elisif knew, but it was better than nothing. There were five of them after all, and what were a few Forsworn compared to the end of the world? She nodded assent at Delphine.

"Sky Haven Temple it is then," Delphine said, taking the book and gathering her things. "Come on, let's get going. We've got no time to lose."

* * *

After a bit of discussion, they decided to take the long way to the Reach – south through Falkreath and along Lake Ilinalta before bearing north then west along the south road into the Reach. Delphine felt it best to avoid Whiterun and that five of them travelling together would attract attention, so the less populated Falkreath route would be better. Elisif agreed, although not for the same reasons. The Dark Brotherhood would never think to look for her in an out of the way place like Falkreath, surely?

They reached the famous Guardian Stones about an hour out of Riverwood.

"They say those favoured by the gods can change their fate if they pray at a Guardian Stone," Aela explained as she patted the Warrior Stone. "I'm not sure if that's true, but I used to come out here to make offerings all the time. Who knows if it worked."

"I left some septims for the Thief Stone first time I came out this way," said Brynjolf, stroking the Thief Stone fondly. "I don't know if it worked or not, but I'm not dead yet so that's something, right?"

Thieving. Elisif knew it. Brynjolf was far too silver-tongued for his own good and certainly anyone else's. Still, he'd got the information they'd needed from the Thalmor and helped Delphine rescue Esbern, so he couldn't be all bad. All the same, she really couldn't condone thieving.

She could use all the help she could get though. So she patted the Warrior Stone, hoping for some of it to rub off.

"Help," she whispered. "I need to kill Alduin the World-Eater or everyone dies, both here and in the afterlife and oh god, Torygg's in Sovngarde, I don't want Alduin to eat him! So please help because I'm not sure I can do this on my own."

The Stone felt warm to the touch and then the magic happened as light started to flow along the lines of the Warrior carving on the front before pooling in the stone's hole as the whole thing started to glow, and Elisif felt different. Stronger. More powerful. With the urge to swing Dawnbreaker into something and run howling into battle while her foes fled before her, as a woman whispered 'courage, daughter' into her ear.

"Oh," she whispered, letting the Stone go. "Oh!" She turned to where the others were watching, a mix of surprise and pleasure on their faces. "What just happened?"

"Looks like someone's favoured by the gods," Delphine remarked, sounding a little sarcastic, but she was smiling. "Come on, let's get going. All very well getting the blessing of the Guardian Stones but power's no good if you never use it."

So they journeyed on, and along the way Elisif found herself getting braver. First the troll, and Elisif Shouted it down, sprinting after it and finishing it off with Dawnbreaker, with mage fire from Esbern and arrows from Aela, Delphine and Brynjolf in support. Then the wolves, and with a little help from Elemental Fury, Elisif was carving through them too. The necromancer and Atronach were a little trickier and while his fire magic sent her staggering back, Delphine charged in, her magic resistance protecting her. Elisif tried sending a few arrows the mage's way and to her surprise, some of them were even on target.

The skeletons near the junction with the road to Falkreath itself were easy prey – one strike from Dawnbreaker felled one and the fiery explosion from the death saw the other one off.

"I'm getting better at this!" Elisif called, actually starting to feel rather cheerful about how things were going.

"You weren't bad at it before!" Aela called back, grinning. Brynjolf also looked pleased, as did Esbern and Delphine... was that actual approval on the woman's face?

"You've got a way to go before you're facing down Alduin," said Delphine, sounding only a little critical. "But you're learning."

Elisif sheathed Dawnbreaker, feeling rather pleased with herself. Probably as close to a compliment as she was likely to get out of Delphine. She leapt off the rock, rejoining the rest of them on the road, and then her blood chilled as they all heard it, a sound out of nightmares. The howl of a savage beast.

"What was that?" Elisif whispered.

"I don't know but it's coming this way," Delphine replied, drawing her katana.

"I know what it is," Aela said grimly, raising her bow. "It's a -"

"HEEEELP! WEREWOLF!"

A flash of red as someone sprinted up from Falkreath, hair and clothes streaming behind him, a shrieking red blur that ran up and crashed straight into Elisif.

"Werewolf?" Elisif gasped. "Where? And why... hey! I remember you! You were the man with the wagon!"

"Yes!" Cicero squealed as he grabbed her shoulders, eyes shining in delight. "Cicero remembers pretty Maia! Kind Maia! Sweet and generous Maia who helped poor Cicero!" His smile faded as he stared desperately up at her. "Could sweet and heavily armed Maia and her dangerous-looking friends help poor Cicero again? Please?"

"I -," Elisif began, but she didn't have time to answer. The werewolf that was chasing Cicero had emerged into view and would be on them in seconds. Cicero shrieked and dived into the undergrowth. Heart in her mouth, Elisif raised her weapons. The huge werewolf hadn't shown any signs of stopping... at least not until Aela fired at it.

"I know you," Aela growled. "Time for an end to this!"

The werewolf staggered to one side, lifting its head and letting out a ferocious roar as it saw Aela standing there, and reared on its hind legs, preparing to turn on her. Elisif saw, felt her heart stop and then the world slowed down as something propelled her into action.

"FUS RO DAH!" The wolf went flying and Elisif sprang after it, weapons raised. Arrows flew at the beast, and Delphine was by her side, katana slicing into the beast, but Elisif was barely aware of anything other than her axe and Dawnbreaker carving into the werewolf's body and blood spurting out. Strike after strike after strike before it could recover and fight back... and finally it died. Elisif staggered back, exhausted, just finding the strength to clean her blades off before sitting down in the middle of the road, staring at it. Werewolf, she'd just killed a werewolf, after it had been chasing poor Cicero.

Said poor Cicero had crept out of his hiding place, scurrying over and crouching hesitantly next to her. He'd tilted his head, face pale, eyes wide and a nervous little smile on his face.

"Maia!" Cicero squeaked, cheeks flushing pink. "You saved me!" Without warning, he launched himself on to her, flinging his arms around her as he cuddled her tight, head resting on her shoulder. Which was all very lovely but didn't explain why he was here

"Cicero!" Elisif gasped, patting him awkwardly on the back. "Are you all right? What are you doing out here, did you bury your mother? Why was that werewolf chasing you?"

Cicero hesitated, letting her go and sitting back on his heels.

"Cicero brought his mother to her new crypt, yes," he said softly, turning oddly serious. "Cicero has... laid her to rest. But Cicero didn't know what to do next so he waited, hoping for a sign. But no sign ever came." He sighed, expression halfway between a pout and a scowl. "No sign from the gods for poor Cicero, no Words to comfort him in his hour of need, no. Is it any wonder Cicero became angry? That he lost his temper? That he became enraged after some filthy pretender mocked and slandered his poor deceased mother?" His eyes slid to the werewolf's cooling form, Aela and Delphine currently examining it, and Elisif could guess that maybe he'd got in a fight with someone who he'd not realised was a werewolf.

"Who was he?" Elisif asked. "Aela, you said you knew him."

"That's right," Aela nodded. "He was a Companion once. We used to hunt together... until his methods got out of hand and we asked him to leave. That was ten, twelve years ago? I didn't know what had happened to him and didn't care to... well, I guess I do now. Odd, I didn't think he lived in Falkreath. I know most of the townsfolk there, and he wasn't one. His name's Arnbjorn."

Elisif had never heard of him – it was a common enough Nordic name after all. But Brynjolf apparently had, because he'd gone very pale.

"_Arnbjorn?_" he breathed, horrified. "Sweet Dibella's tits, we just killed Arnbjorn? By the Eight, we need to get out of here. Did anyone see us?"

Delphine looked up sharply. "You know him?" she asked, frowning. Brynjolf nodded, eyes not leaving the dead werewolf.

"Aye – well, not personally. Not very well, and I didn't know he was a werewolf. But if my guess is right... Delphine, he's not an ordinary thief or bandit. He's married to Astrid, the leader of the Dark Brotherhood."

The Dark Brotherhood... Elisif couldn't help but cry out. They'd already tried to kill her once, and now she'd just killed their leader's husband? Things couldn't get any worse. Slowly, she turned to look at Cicero, wondering if he'd known this, and while he looked pale and nervous, he didn't look surprised. He'd known his pursuer was Dark Brotherhood, or at least suspected it.

"They've got a contract out on you as well, haven't they?" Elisif whispered, suppressing a wave of fury at the way they could just go out there killing people, bringing innocent lives to an end without a care for the harm they caused, the damage they did. First she'd had to run for her life, and now poor Cicero, who didn't have any of the resources she did, was being hunted too. He didn't even have armour, just his tattered jester outfit and a dagger. A very nice dagger, to be sure, but just a knife when all was said and done.

Cicero nodded, still looking nervous.

"Cicero offended the wrong people," Cicero whispered. "Now Astrid wants to kill me! Murder poor, innocent Cicero!"

Elisif felt her heart go out to the poor man. She could hardly leave him on his own, not after this.

"They want to kill me too, someone already tried in Solitude," she told him. "But they haven't got me yet, and when I'm... when I'm ready, I'm going to come back and take them all on, and they won't hurt anyone ever again! But right now, we're going somewhere safe, somewhere they'll never think to look. Why don't you come? We can look after you too."

"Wait a second," and that was Delphine, interrupting as usual, and Elisif could cheerfully have throttled her. Why did Delphine always have to act like she was the one in charge? Sure enough, she was sitting across from Elisif, glaring at her again.

"Do you mean to tell me someone took a contract out on you with the Dark Brotherhood?" she demanded.

Elisif nodded. Possibly she should have mentioned this earlier, now she thought about it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Delphine cried. "Dammit, how am I supposed to protect you if you _don't tell me these things?_"

"I didn't ask for your protection!" Elisif snapped. Delphine just glared back.

"Tough, I'm sworn to guide and guard you anyway," Delphine snapped. "And you've got Ulfric Stormcloak after you and now the Dark Brotherhood trying to kill you too – I'd say you need it all right." She got to her feet, looking around. Esbern was doing likewise, casting some sort of spell.

"No life signs anywhere near, I don't think anyone's seen us," Esbern said quietly. "But we can't stay here."

"You're right," said Delphine. She indicated the body. "Brynjolf, Aela, get this out of here. We're not far from the lake, dump it in there, it'll keep the evidence hidden long enough for us to be far away. And as for you..." She was staring at Cicero, lips pursed, clearly not trusting him in the slightest. Cicero had also got up, looking thoughtfully back at Delphine, faint half-smile on his face.

"Hello," he purred, suddenly looking a lot less innocent and harmless than he had before. "Cicero doesn't think we've been introduced. Cicero is sure he'd remember you."

"Hey!" Brynjolf snapped from where he and Aela were manhandling the dead werewolf away. "She's spoken for!"

Delphine shot a glare at Brynjolf that could have chilled lava. "I am not -!" She stopped, possibly seeing the grin on Cicero's face and realising that could be seen as an invitation.

"I am not after companionship," Delphine growled. "I'm more interested in exactly who you are, where you came from and why you just happened to be here, with the Dark Brotherhood on your tail."

"Oh, Cicero is just a harmless little fool!" Cicero cooed, pirouetting over to Delphine and leaning up against her, gazing up at her, still grinning. "Just a humble merryman from Cyrodiil, making his own way in the world after his dear Mother passed on. Just poor Cicero, all alone, with no Family left to him." His grin faded as he pouted up at Delphine. "Cicero's been very lonely, you know."

Delphine grimaced as she stepped back, pushing him away from her. Elisif felt obliged to intervene at this point. Maybe she wasn't exactly fond of Delphine, but she didn't need Cicero harassing her.

"Cicero, stop bothering her!" Elisif sighed. "Come on, come over here, if you want a cuddle, I can manage that."

Cicero looked up, laughed softly and shook his head, still smiling but not quite in the same way, looking surprisingly gentle.

"Maia is very pretty but not at all Cicero's type," he said, sounding actually kind. "But Maia is Cicero's friend, yes?" He bounced back over and stood before her, arms folded as he looked her up and down. Despite being two inches shorter than her, Elisif felt a little intimidated by him. Close up, he was older than he'd seemed at first, probably close to Brynjolf's age, late thirties at least. Not unattractive... but not really Elisif's type either.

"Yes, we're friends," she said, and while she did genuinely like him, she also felt some primitive instinct telling her she would not want to be his enemy.

"Of course, of course!" he cooed, clapping his hands and dancing on the spot. "You saved me from the horrible werewolf! And you helped me before, on the road! Oh, but not just me, hmm? You helped Mother too, and Mother is surely grateful. Mother wouldn't want any harm to come to you, no. Mother likes you, and so does Cicero! Never mind that harlot Astrid and whatever corrupt and false contracts she's made. Cicero likes pretty Maia, and Maia helped Mother, so Mother would want Maia to live and be happy! So Cicero shall help Maia, yes? Cicero and Maia, best friends forever!" He'd clasped his hands together, capering gleefully about. No doubt about it, he was the strangest man Elisif had ever met... but a friendly one and the fact Cicero genuinely didn't seem to find her attractive was oddly reassuring.

"Friends," Elisif confirmed. "Does that mean you're coming with us?"

"Cicero would love to!" Cicero cooed. His face fell as he glanced back down the road, scowling. "Si- Stendarr knows Cicero doesn't have anywhere else to go," he muttered. Elisif felt her heart go out to him. Poor man. He'd not been well-treated just lately, she could tell. The poor thing just seemed so lonely. Well, maybe he'd be happier with some company.

"I hope you're all right with that," Elisif said firmly, turning to Delphine. "But I'm not just leaving him on his own for the Dark Brotherhood to kill."

To her surprise, Delphine just shrugged. "It's preferable to having to kill him as well," Delphine sighed. "He's seen too much to just let wander around. Fine, bring him. Just keep an eye on him, make sure he behaves himself. And you, Cicero or whatever your name is. Don't cause any trouble, and do what you're told, and there won't be any problems. We're on an important mission, I don't need amateurs getting in the way and messing it up."

Cicero turned back to Delphine, that crafty smirk back on his face again as he giggled.

"Cicero doesn't mind _you _giving him orders, oh no," Cicero purred at her. "You can boss poor Cicero around any day."

"Talos help me," Delphine growled, and the glare she was giving Cicero was positively glacial by this point. "Look, jester, just keep your hands to yourself and your thoughts private, am I clear?"

"Perfectly clear!" Cicero chirped, although the grin never left his face. "Cicero is a good boy!"

"Delphine, are you sure-?" Esbern murmured, looking a little concerned himself by this point.

"No, but what choice do I have?" Delphine sighed. By this point, Brynjolf and Aela had returned, Brynjolf scowling to see Cicero was still there and his mood didn't improve on learning Cicero was coming with them.

"Fuck's sake, Del, are you sure I can't bury him in Lake Ilinalta as well?" Brynjolf sighed.

"Bryn," Delphine sighed. "He's harmless – mostly harmless. And our Dragonborn likes him. We'll keep him unless he becomes a complete liability."

Brynjolf's expression clearly said he thought Cicero was well past that point already but he said nothing further, just drawing protectively closer to Delphine and glaring at Cicero every time he got near. Elisif watched Cicero scampering about, singing to himself with not a care in the world, and edged closer to Aela.

"Did I do the right thing, bringing him with us?" she whispered. Aela didn't seem at all certain, but at length she nodded.

"I think you did the honourable thing in saving him, and I don't think he's got anywhere else to go," Aela sighed. "I just hope he doesn't cause trouble for us."

Elisif hoped not either, but looking at Cicero, she couldn't be terribly sure of that. She'd just have to keep an eye on him and hope for the best.

* * *

Despite the unexpected having to hide a body and acquisition of a demented jester, they made good time and nothing else went wrong. Until that is they rounded the corner after Half-Moon Mill, made their way down the hill... and ran straight into the dragon.

"DRAGON!" Cicero shrieked, diving behind Elisif. Well of course he was scared, he'd got barely any weapons or anything.

"Stay with me," Elisif whispered to him, her own heart pounding. "I'll look after you."

Cicero nodded and shadowed her, whimpering to himself as the dragon swept overhead. Elisif reached for her bow, having the horrible feeling this was going to be a hard one. There wasn't really anywhere for it to land after all. Delphine, Aela and Brynjolf were already shooting at it, and Esbern was sending firebolts its way, Atronach by his side. Elisif grabbed her own bow, a very nice ebony one, but all the fancy archery gear in the world couldn't hide the fact she wasn't the best shot out there. She'd trained in Solitude, she'd got Aela to show her a few things, but she was still fairly average. It was also very hard to hit a dragon in flight, it turned out.

"Maia," Cicero whispered, tugging on her arm. "Maia!"

"Cicero, what is it, I'm trying to fight a dragon!" Elisif cried, trying to focus on the scaly beast before it came in for another sweep.

"Maia!" Cicero wailed, tugging at her arm even harder. Mara help her, but unless he'd seen someone sneaking up behind them...

"What?" Elisif snapped at him, feeling a bit guilty for losing her temper, but really, now was not the time for fooling around.

"Cicero knows archery!" Cicero cried. "Lend Cicero your bow, he can hit that dragon!"

Lend him her bow? He really didn't look like the warrior type, but if he said he could shoot... She passed the bow and her supply of steel arrows over. Kyne knew he couldn't miss any more than she was doing.

Cicero shouldered the quiver, and nocked an arrow to the bow. As he raised the weapon, his entire demeanour changed, the foolishness fading as his eyes narrowed, face looking deadly serious as he focused on the dragon, eyes tracking it in flight. He moved along with it, eyes never leaving it, utterly calm, faint smile on his lips... and then he let go. The arrow flew faster than Elisif could see but she could see the dragon seem to fall back as the arrow smacked into its side. The beast recovered quickly and came round for another go, but Cicero had another arrow nocked... and that didn't miss either. Then he broke off, turned and ran down the road, looking over his shoulder at the dragon as he did, pausing to shoot off another arrow, and that didn't miss either, before continuing to the bottom of the hill.

The dragon, enraged beyond all measure by the irritating little joor that kept shooting it, followed, breathing fire at Cicero, who somehow contrived to not be there when flame hit ground. Elisif had to hand it to him, the little fellow was good. Talented archer, agile too – Elisif was beginning to wonder if he really was a jester at all, in fact she was fairly certain by this time he was no such thing. But she didn't have time to speculate. Cicero needed her help.

"VICTORY OR SOVNGARDE!" she howled at the dragon as she ran towards Cicero. The dragon had crashed to the ground, advancing on Cicero, who'd put the bow away and drawn his dagger. Brave, but unlikely to be much help to him against a dragon.

"Get after her!" Elisif vaguely heard Delphine shouting, and Brynjolf and Aela's arrows whistled past, all thudding into the dragon. Elisif had her weapons drawn by this time, ready to dual-wield.

"SU!" she Shouted, and she felt the world slow down as she flung herself into the dance, carving into the dragon's side as she turned and weaved, the Warrior's wisdom showing her what to do, knowledge instinctively coming to her as she attacked. The dragon turned from Cicero to her, growling as its head swung at her... and then it cried in pain as Cicero pounced on to its head, dagger clutched in hand and face twisted in a rage that might have been frightening had Elisif not been too deep in a warrior's trance to notice.

"DIE, DRAGON!" he howled, stabbing into its head and eyes as he crouched on its skull, clutching one of its horns in his free hand and he definitely wasn't a jester, Elisif was positive of that now. But she didn't have time to think about that, not with a dragon to deal with. Arrows and magic were flying everywhere, and Delphine was on its other side with her katana at the ready, doing some damage of her own.

Underneath a barrage of spells, arrows, a Dragonborn and a Blade carving it up and a lunatic in a jester's outfit stabbing it repeatedly in the skull, the dragon didn't stand a chance. It died by the road, near the mound it had been raised out of in the first place.

Elisif stopped to catch her breath, cleaning her blades off before getting to her feet. The dragon was already smoking, flames crackling up and devouring it from within... and Cicero was still sitting on top of its head, cackling to himself.

"Cicero!" Elisif cried, alarmed. "Cicero, get down from there, it's on fire! You'll be hurt!"

Cicero whooped in delight, but he did leap off the dragon's head, landing cat-like in front of her. Getting to his feet, he danced in front of her, capering about, squealing about how they'd killed a dragon.

"We killed it, we killed it, we did, we did!" He stopped dancing, face inches from her own, wide smile in place. "Pretty Maia stabbed it! With her shiny, shiny sword! You were very good at it. So fast! So much _blood! _You must be very talented."

"Oh, there's better warriors than me out there," Elisif sighed, but the praise was nice. "You weren't bad yourself! You didn't miss once with that bow, and not many would have flung themselves on to a dragon with just a dagger in their hand."

Cicero just giggled, face flushing bright red as he swayed from side to side.

"Maia is too kind, too kind!" he cooed, eyelashes fluttering, clearly a little embarrassed at the praise. He was pleased though, Elisif could tell, and it was nice watching him be happy. Definitely not her type, but he was rather sweet.

Then the dragon soul boiled out of it, wrapping itself around her and Elisif gasped, bracing herself as the dragon's essence sank into her, her own mind trapping it deep inside until she found another word wall. Elisif shook her head, opening her eyes to see a dragon skeleton and her companions all looking on with various degrees of satisfaction and surprise. Pride from Aela, satisfaction from Delphine, absolute delight from Esbern, amazement tinged with worry from Brynjolf and from Cicero, utter shock.

"But you.. you just..." He gestured at the dragon, staring at its skeleton then back to her, waving his hands frantically. "You ate it!" he breathed, sounding awestruck. "You ate a dragon!"

"Oh. Well, yes," Elisif admitted, feeling herself blush. "I, er, took its soul. That's what happens when I fight one. It's a bit frightening to watch, I know, but don't worry, it doesn't hurt and isn't anything to worry about, really..."

"You took its soul..." Cicero breathed, before chuckling once, then twice, then he'd broken down into howling, hysterical laughter.

"Oh but that is ridiculous, _ridiculous!_" Cicero howled, slapping his thigh. "Maia surely hasn't done that. Because that would make her Dragonborn, like in the stories, and Maia isn't Dragonborn, the Dragonborn's Jarl Elisif, and there surely aren't two. And you can't be Jarl Elisif, because Jarl Elisif lives in a big palace in Solitude..." His voice trailed off as he looked up, probably remembering Elisif telling him she'd been in Solitude not long ago.

"Your name is not really Maia, is it," he said, and his expression was completely unreadable, but Elisif could see Brynjolf circling behind him with dagger in hand and felt Aela move closer.

"No," Elisif admitted. "I'm sorry, Cicero. I'm Elisif, Jarl of Solitude, and I'm Dragonborn, like in all the stories. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I've got enemies and I don't know who to trust."

Cicero had a hand over his mouth, eyes bright and then he was squealing again, face bright pink as he capered about before staring at her, fascinated.

"Cicero never met a Jarl before!" he gasped. "Not close up anyway. Er. What is Cicero meant to call you? You have to forgive humble Cicero, he is just a lowborn simpleton with no idea about protocol or etiquette or anything. He hopes he's done nothing improper." This last was followed by a nervous giggle and Elisif bit her lip before she burst out laughing herself. Really, the last thing she felt like right now was a Jarl.

"You can just call me Elisif," she told him. "But only when it's just us, right? When people other than us are around, you need to call me Maia still. I don't want people knowing who I am!"

"No, no, Cicero understands," Cicero purred. "Cicero can quite see pretty Elisif not wanting anyone to know who she is. Cicero knows she has... enemies." His face grew serious, brooding look in his eyes as he stepped back, staring solemnly at her as he scratched his cheek.

"Pretty Elisif has enemies," he repeated. "The Dark Brotherhood are seeking your death, you know."

"I know, I told you earlier," Elisif sighed. "They tried in Solitude, which is why I'm not there now. And why we can't linger – look, let's see if this dragon's got anything worth having and go."

Cicero nodded, faint smile on his face, and then he reached out, taking her arm. "Sweet Dragonborn, pretty Dragonborn, do not be afraid," he said gently. "Cicero shall look after you. The pretender Astrid wants to kill you, but she wants to kill poor Cicero too so do not fear. Cicero will take her down first. She has already lost her sheepdog and her lizard. We'll kill her other pets too, fear not, pretty Jarl."

Elisif nodded, relieved to have the support, and then she realised Brynjolf had his dagger out again, Delphine was raising her bow and suddenly it dawned on her she'd never told Cicero her assailant in Solitude had been an Argonian...

"Oh gods," she gasped, ripping her arm back out of Cicero's grasp. "You – you're one of them. That's where you learnt to fight, you were in the Dark Brotherhood too!"

Cicero had gone very still, eyes widening just a fraction, and then he bolted, fleeing down the road towards the Reach... or at least he did until Brynjolf sprang after him, long stride easily outpacing Cicero and he'd tackled the shorter man to the ground, pinning him down in a hold that stopped Cicero from getting at his dagger.

"LET GO OF ME!" Cicero howled, writhing in Brynjolf's grip, teeth bared in fury. "CICERO SHALL STAB YOU, YOU THIEVING WRETCH!"

"Del, we can bury him in a shallow grave now, right?" Brynjolf called cheerfully. "Right – argh! Son of a..." Cicero had bitten his hand and was trying to get free. He almost made it too, but by this time Aela had caught up and planted a boot on his hand before he could get his dagger.

"Elisif, I've changed my mind," Aela announced, also sounding pleased at the prospect of bloodshed. "Saving him was a terrible idea, in fact the honourable thing is actually to put the little murderer down for the good of everybody. Never thought I'd end up agreeing with a thief, but dumping him in a shallow grave would solve an awful lot of problems."

A wail that was part fury and part terror emanated from Cicero's mouth and Elisif felt it tear at her heart. This was horrible to watch – she'd got to like Cicero. Even if he was quite mad, he was sweet and charming and friendly and he'd promised to protect her even if he was Dark Brotherhood – or had been at any rate. It sounded like they'd kicked him out, which was a little worrying if someone was considered too mad or dangerous even for the feared assassins' guild.

"Please," Elisif gasped. "Please don't kill him!"

Brynjolf and Aela just looked at each other, sighed wearily and turned their attention back to Cicero. He'd stopped struggling, but the pained whimpering from where Aela was stepping on his hand wasn't much better.

Delphine had arrived by this point, standing over Cicero with her arms folded, and Elisif knew this was it, he was dead, Delphine wouldn't hesitate to order his death, she wasn't a woman who messed about. So it was Elisif could barely believe her eyes as Delphine motioned for Aela to step back before kneeling at Cicero's side. Elisif moved closer, surprised to see Delphine actually looking thoughtfully at him. Cicero blinked and looked up, wary but no longer fighting.

"Changed your mind?" Cicero gasped. "You want Cicero for a pet after all?" He yelped as Brynjolf's knee, already wedged between his legs, jerked up into his groin.

"Bryn!" Delphine scolded. "Stop that." She turned back to Cicero, heedless of Brynjolf groaning.

"So. Cicero. You're Dark Brotherhood. Or _were_. Guess they kicked you out, huh."

"Cicero still is Dark Brotherhood!" Cicero hissed, face twisting in a grimace. "They, they are the heretics! The false Brotherhood! Deceivers, liars, _pretenders!_ All dancing to the tune of that harlot Astrid!"

"So you said," Delphine said calmly, sitting down next to him, cross-legged on the tundra. "I also heard what you said to Elisif." She beckoned her over, and Elisif approached, sitting next to Delphine. Cicero did look up at her then, actually smiling, heavy-lidded eyes blinking slowly at her.

"Pretty Elisif," Cicero laughed, still a little breathless. "Cicero is sorry if he scared you. And for the contract too. It wasn't Cicero's idea, you know. Astrid organised the whole thing."

"Astrid," Elisif said softly, thinking over everything that had been said so far. "The leader of the Dark Brotherhood."

The wrong thing to say. Cicero's face clouded over as he started shrieking again.

"LIES! TREACHERY! ASTRID IS NOT THE LEADER OF THE DARK BROTHERHOOD, MOTHER I-!" Cicero immediately stopped talking, horror in his eyes as he realised perhaps he'd said too much.

"Mother," said Esbern softly, looking absolutely fascinated. "You mean the Night Mother, don't you? She was the one who split from the Morag Tong all those centuries ago, your order's founder."

"But she must be dead by now, surely?" Elisif heard herself say, and then it occurred to her that the mother Cicero had been transporting to her new crypt hadn't been his own but the mother of his order. He'd been taking her... where? To the Dark Brotherhood's Skyrim base, that much was obvious.

"CICERO IS TELLING YOU NOTHING!" Cicero howled, eyes darting nervously between them all, and Elisif had a feeling he was going to go for his knife again.

"It's all right," Delphine said, sounding gentle and kind and utterly unlike her usual self. "I'm not interested in the details of Dark Brotherhood politics. I'm just looking to protect my Dragonborn. I was a Blade once, sworn to protect and guide any Dragonborn that might arise. You understand I'm not pleased this Astrid of the Dark Brotherhood has taken a contract against Elisif."

Cicero glared at her, spitting on the floor. "Oh, _Blades._ Cicero has heard of the Blades. Blades killed Dark Brothers and Sisters once. Protecting their _Emperor. _Pah!" He scowled at her, pouting a little and then his mouth curved into a smirk. "Cicero has heard the Blades are not doing so well these days either."

Delphine steeled herself, pointedly not rising to the bait. "We've had better days. But we have a Dragonborn again and a purpose. We've got dragons to kill, a world to save." Then Delphine actually smiled. "Want to help?"

"Delphine!" Brynjolf shouted. "You cannot be serious!"

"He's a murdering little fiend from an organisation that we know has it in for Elisif!" Aela protested. "How do we know he's not planning to kill us all?"

"Oh, Cicero is tempted," Cicero muttered darkly. He glared up at Delphine. "What is in it for Cicero, hmm? And why is Delphine offering? Cicero doesn't actually believe Delphine secretly wants him for a plaything."

Delphine did grin at that. "Sorry, Cicero. That's not what I'm after. But what I do want... The Dark Brotherhood aren't going to stop hunting Elisif. Not when there's a large amount of coin and a lot of professional pride at stake. I can help keep her safe and one step ahead, but she's going to be queen. She can't keep running forever. To get her out of this, we need to take the fight to them. But to do that, I'd need to know where they lived and how to get to them." She tilted her head, smiling sweetly at him. "That's where you come in."

"Delphine, this sounds like a terrible idea..." Esbern said, looking warily at Cicero. Brynjolf also looked dubious, but Aela was starting to nod in understanding and Elisif realised what Delphine was getting at. The Dark Brotherhood's safety lay in secrecy, but if someone were to spill their secrets, an outcast member with an axe to grind...

"They were horrible to you, weren't they?" Elisif whispered. "That's what you were telling me earlier, wasn't it? Astrid doesn't believe in the Night Mother any more, wants to run things her way, is that it? But you don't agree, and you were the only one to think so, so they picked on you."

Cicero looked up, eyes wide and sorrowful as he nodded at her.

"Mean they were to poor Cicero. Teasing and mocking or ignoring him!" Cicero whined. Brynjolf rolled his eyes, clearly sympathising with Astrid on this one.

"Dark Brotherhood assassins being terrible human beings. There's a shocker," he muttered. Cicero glared at him, hissing under his breath.

"Not to _each other!_" he growled. "Dark Brothers and Sisters are Family! Children of the Night Mother! But Astrid isn't. Astrid thinks she doesn't need Mother any more. Astrid thinks she's better than that. And the others all follow her, the sheepdog, the lizard, the Redguard, the unchild, all of them! Heh. Well, not the sheepdog or lizard any more, pretty Elisif took care of them!" He giggled, grinning at her again. "Cicero likes Elisif! She was nice to him. Helped him! The first person in cold, frozen Skyrim to show him any kindness or sympathy."

What that said about her fellow countrymen and women, Elisif wasn't sure – yes, Cicero was an odd little lunatic and a hardened killer, it turned out, but even so, for no one other than her to be nice to him at all was terribly inhospitable.

"If Astrid gets her way, no one in Skyrim ever will have been kind to you," Elisif said quietly. "Is that what you want?"

"No!" Cicero gasped, shaking his head, wide eyes not leaving hers.

"Then help me," Elisif whispered. "You know how they work, even if you never tell us how to find them, you know who they are, you can warn me if they're nearby."

Cicero grinned, sly look in his eyes.

"If they are nearby, Elisif can be quite sure Cicero will do more than warn her. Do not fear, Cicero will happily deal with the problem for her."

Elisif looked hopefully at Delphine, who hadn't taken her eyes off Cicero. The grin on her face mirrored Cicero's own.

"All right, he's in," Delphine said. "Let him up, Bryn."

"You are not serious," Brynjolf said, shaking his head in disbelief. Still, he let go Cicero go, glaring at him.

"Don't get any ideas, lad," Brynjolf growled, standing back as Cicero climbed to his feet, flexing his fingers and retrieving his dagger. "You're only here because your friends are after the lass here. Otherwise you'd be in the same state as that dragon."

Cicero brushed his clothes off, pointedly ignoring Brynjolf before glancing up at Delphine, grinning at her.

"Delphine likes the idea of giving sweet Cicero orders after all, does she?" he purred, grin only widening as Brynjolf growled at him. Delphine sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Just behave yourself, don't stab any of us and do what you're told, and there won't be a problem," she told him. "Now come on and get moving. We've got a way to go before we get where we're going."

"Where are we going?" Cicero asked, tilting his head.

"To the Reach," Delphine said. "There's a safe place out there where we can hole up and start planning. But before we can get there, we'll probably have to get past a whole ton of Forsworn first. Have you heard of the Forsworn, Cicero?"

Cicero's eyes lit up, malevolent glee spreading across his face. "Oh _yes. _Cicero has heard of the Forsworn. They think they're so scary? Cicero shall show _them_ who's scary!" Leaving Delphine, he scampered over to Elisif, linking an arm in hers. "Don't worry, pretty Elisif! Cicero shall kill lots and lots of Forsworn for you and then, then you shall have your Sanctuary. Safe, safe, from prying eyes and lying, heretical false Brotherhoods. Come, come, walk with Cicero! You and I are going to be fast friends. _Fast_ friends!"

So saying, he skipped alongside Elisif, cooing and babbling to her all the while and to her credit, she only looked a bit nervous and humoured the little fool with good grace. All the same, Aela followed close behind, shadowing them both with her own dagger at the ready if Cicero tried anything.

Next to Delphine, both Brynjolf and Esbern had drawn closer.

"I hope to the Eight you know what you're doing, Del," Brynjolf muttered, still glaring at Cicero. "The man's not just a murderer, he's an unpredictable sociopath. Who knows what he might do?"

"I know," said Delphine, still watching Cicero fondly. "But he's useful. He's our key to getting the Brotherhood off Elisif's back, and who knows, he might be able to help with the Thalmor too. He'd definitely make a good dragonslayer, did you see the way he went for that one?" She did look up at Brynjolf then, looking a bit sheepish. "Is it wrong for me to be a bit fond of him despite everything?"

"Yes," said Brynjolf firmly. "Delphine, the man's insane. Please. Please tell me you don't fancy him."

Delphine laughed, shaking her head, amused. "He's a sweetheart, but I have the feeling he'd be a bit high-maintenance." She glanced up, sly smile on her face as she caught Brynjolf's eye. "Jealous, are we?"

"What, of him?" Brynjolf snorted. "Hardly." A pause, during which Delphine's grin never wavered, and more than a hint of anxiety crept into Brynjolf's expression.

"Del, you wouldn't. Would you?" Brynjolf asked nervously. Delphine shook her head, laughing to herself as she looked away.

"Del?" Brynjolf asked, starting to look genuinely concerned that she might actually take up with Cicero. "Del, please. Promise you won't. If you're going to turn me down, please don't let it be for him."

Delphine reached out and squeezed Brynjolf's hand, smiling as they made their way along the road to Karthspire. No, Cicero wasn't really her type when all was said and done. But still, he had his uses. Delphine took her oath as a Blade seriously, and if her Dragonborn was threatened by the Dark Brotherhood, she'd do whatever it took to bring said Dark Brotherhood to its knees. If that meant recruiting a homicidal lunatic with an extremely eccentric dress sense, then so be it.

* * *

On the other side of Skyrim, in Windhelm's Palace of the Kings, Ulfric was receiving the official report of the Battle of Whiterun. Needless to say, he was not pleased.

"What do you mean, you failed?" Ulfric snapped. "We needed that city, Ralof!"

Ralof only flinched slightly at Ulfric's wrath.

"The Legion were there in force, my King," said Ralof, standing rigidly to attention. Always best to never let Ulfric know quite how much he got to him, no matter how angry the Jarl of Windhelm got. "And... and the Dragonborn was there. Jarl Elisif. She was on the frontlines, fighting. We couldn't get close, but her Shouts felled many of us."

Ulfric hissed. This was not good news. For Elisif to be able to do that meant the Greybeards had taught her all three words of Unrelenting Force. Which meant her Thu'um now matched his. Not that he intended to tell Ralof that.

"She cannot Shout constantly," Ulfric growled. "Shouting leaves you weary, you cannot keep doing it. Why is it none of you got close enough to injure her? Are the Stormcloaks incapable of shooting straight now? Is there no one capable of carving a path to her? While I'd have liked her alive, I will tolerate her death. The gods can call another Dragonborn. The Empire will have difficulty finding another puppet ruler."

"She had protection, my lord," said Ralof softly, his voice shaking a little as he prepared himself to deliver the next blow. "The Companions of Ysgramor took the field against us – three of them at any rate, including Aela the Huntress. They didn't stray far from her side, and they cut down anyone who came near her."

Ulfric did straighten up at that, brow furrowing. "So. Kodlak Whitemane has taken a side. I'm disappointed. I thought him a true Nord. I also thought him committed to Ysgramor's legacy and keeping the Companions out of politics. It seems I was wrong. No matter. We will retreat and gather our forces and when we attack Whiterun again, we'll take the city and then we will see where the Harbinger's true loyalties lie. Dismissed, Ralof."

Ralof nodded and took his leave, leaving Ulfric alone with Galmar Stone-Fist.

"Well, Galmar, it would appear our Dragon-Queen has claws after all," Ulfric said, impressed at Elisif's bravery despite the harm done to his own cause. "Do you still think she's a powerless figurehead we can afford to ignore?"

"She's a menace for as long as she remains free," Galmar growled. "Recruitment's dried up as of late and morale's slipping, Ulfric. No one wants to raise a sword against a Dragonborn. We need to find her."

Yes, they did. But abducting her from Solitude was a suicide mission, and when she left Haafingar, she'd proved extraordinarily good at going to ground. Ulfric was certain she wasn't so foolish as to wander around Stormcloak territories in any case, and on the Empire's side of the battle lines, there were always those prepared to help their Dragonborn Queen in waiting. Ulfric would wager she was long gone from Whiterun by now. But there was hope. There were also plenty of Stormcloak supporters in the Imperial Holds, and they'd be watching too. Sooner or later, she'd make a mistake, and then he'd have her. He hoped so anyway. This war was definitely not going according to plan, but really, who could have planned for a Dragonborn rallying the other side?

"Who approaches the Jarl of Windhelm?" Galmar barked out, reaching for his axe. Ulfric glanced up, surprised to see a young Nord woman walking into his war room without a care in the world.

"Only the very brave or the very foolish approach a Jarl without summons," Ulfric said, standing up to look at her better. "I'd have your name, kinswoman."

"Njada Stonearm, sir," she replied, looking rather confident for a mere mercenary. "Formerly of the Companions of Ysgramor... until our Harbinger fell for the Dragonborn's charms and turned out to be an Empire-loving milk-drinker."

"Harsh words," Ulfric murmured, but there was something about the young warrior's attitude he liked. He'd always liked women with a backbone. "Tell me, do you treat all your former lieges like this?"

"Only the ones who turn out to not be what I thought they were," Njada said proudly. "They tell me you're a true Nord, a true son of Skyrim who will bring the worship of Talos back to this land and send the elves fleeing back to Alinor. Is that not so?"

"Watch your tongue, girl!" Galmar snapped. "You're standing before your true High King!"

"Galmar," Ulfric said, waving for his housecarl to be quiet. So there was at least one Companion who felt she could no longer back her Harbinger with any honour. Interesting. Very interesting indeed. "Our friend's come a long way. We should be hospitable, no? Well, Njada. I will let history judge me and the opinions of others fall where they may. Whether any of us are true Nords is not something we ourselves are ever the best judge of. But I do intend to rid Skyrim of the Thalmor and their Imperial toadies for good. Should I end up as King in the process, I'll accept the responsibility."

Njada smiled, delighted to hear it. "Good, we need a proper ruler, not that pathetic child the Empire wants to land us with. So what if she's Dragonborn? Takes more than being some mystical dragonslayer to make a good ruler."

"You don't think she'd make a good queen then?" Ulfric asked, eyebrow raised. Truth be told, he was actually starting to think Elisif had the makings of a fine ruler... but he kept the thought to himself. Others might mistake his respect for the young Dragonborn for agreement with her.

"She barely makes a good Jarl," Njada sneered. "How much has she been in Solitude lately, hmm? Hardly at all, it seems she'd rather spend her time in Whiterun tagging along behind Jorrvaskr's glory. And all she's done is drag Jorrvaskr down to her level. Which is why I left and have come here. I want to fight for a true Nord, and there's none truer than you, Jarl Ulfric."

"Well put," Ulfric said, approving. Any new recruit was worth having and a former Companion... he could use that. "So then, Njada Stonearm. If Elisif has been associating with Jorrvaskr, what have you learnt about her? Is she staying there now? Going back to Solitude? Somewhere else? If I can find her, I can bring her to our side, or at least deprive the Empire of their Chosen One."

"I don't know where she's going," Njada admitted. "She wouldn't say, just left in secret with Aela in tow. But I can tell you how to find her. She wears scaled armour, wields an ebony war axe and a golden sword that glows with unholy fire... and she calls herself Maia when she's travelling. It was the name she used when she first came to Jorrvaskr, before we found out who she really was. If you send word out to look for a young Nord woman called Maia, you'll find her before long."

Ulfric smiled, a sudden sense of certainty settling in his heart, a sense of triumph snatched out of the jaws of defeat. Maybe he'd lost Whiterun... for now. But knowing Elisif's pseudonym, that might just deliver her into his hands.

"Galmar," he said, grinning. "Get Jorlief in here, I've got letters to write to our friends out there. To Laila, Skald, Korir... and to Dengeir, Sorli and of course Thonar. About time we started hunting our runaway dragon in earnest, don't you think?"

"Aye, Ulfric," Galmar said, having perked up immensely. "I'll get right on with it." He nodded approvingly at Njada. "She'll do. You want to swear her in or shall I?"

"I'll let you have the honour," Ulfric said, always preferring to let Galmar do the oaths. It always felt a bit odd to lead someone into declaring him King. Much better for a devoted underling to encourage the others, made him look less egocentric. "Welcome aboard, Njada. I think you and I are going to do great things together."

"I hope so, Jarl Ulfric," Njada smiled as Galmar returned, ready to take her oath. "Anything you need, you just ask."

Ulfric just smiled as he watched her swear loyalty to him. Things had just moved that bit back in his favour.

* * *

A/N: I am so sorry about Cicero, he was _not supposed to be in this one!_ Except the little fetcher's insinuated himself in anyway. Still, he's here and he's making himself useful, so may as well put up with him. I suspect I may need to up the rating, Cicero has a way of increasing the questionable content in any fic just by being there. Ah well. OTOH, look, he's here and on the side of the Aedra (sort of). :D

Sky Haven Temple next chapter, and the Blades will need their wits about them to get past the Forsworn... both with the initial fight and the aftermath.


	11. Chapter 11

Summary: The Blades take Sky Haven Temple, but have to get past a dragon and a Forsworn camp to do it. However, the Forsworn are not the barbarians they appear and word of a destroyed camp can't fail to get back to their leader... and he is not a man to be crossed.

A/N: Readers of Nightshade and Juniper are likely to recognise a few people. ;)

* * *

Another great victory for the Forsworn, it appeared. A dragon had attacked their camp (again), they'd killed it (again) and now the thing was lying dead, its corpse draped over the Karth Double Bridge... for now.

"Well, we killed it, Ma," Kaie ap Mireen said, smiling despite the nervousness she always felt when her fearsome mother, Mireen ap Cordach, Matriarch of Karthspire, was less than pleased. "It won't be bothering us again."

A lie and the entire camp knew it, but Kaie had to stay optimistic. If the rest of them saw her or Mireen lose it, they'd all panic, and then they might as well end their lives on the spot.

"It's still warm," Mireen growled, claws skittering over dragon scale. "I think its soul may still be... daughter, we did cast soul trap on the beast before killing it, did we not?"

"Yes," Kaie said, fingering the shattered remains of the black soul gem in her pocket. "Only... well, this happened." She held the fragments out to her mother, wincing in anticipation of the inevitable fury and she could see half the warriors nearby withdrawing to a safe distance.

Mireen hissed, lashing out at the soul gem fragments and sending them flying, heedless of Kaie's muffled cry of pain as her claws raked Kaie's hand in the process. Kaie bit her lip, shielding her hand as she poured Restoration magic into it. She loved her mother, yes, would follow her as Matriarch until the day she died... but her mother was a cruel woman and not just to outsiders.

"Damn it!" Mireen hissed. "That means its soul is still intact, which means when that other one comes back, as it will, we shall have to do this _all over again!_" She flicked fingers out at the camp, bits of it still smoking from the last attack. "Ask yourselves how often we can keep rebuilding. Ask yourselves where we're meant to get food from if we have to hide in the Karthspire all the time. Ask..."

"Mother," Kaie whispered, shooting glances at the others, all looking worried. "Mother, stop, they'll hear you!"

"Ssss, let them," Mireen growled. "They will do nothing. Still they wait for someone to save them, still we all wait for the orders, for the Sacrament to do something, for our _beloved_ King to actually lead us instead of cowering in that mine like the coward he is."

"He's not cowering!" Kaie snapped, feeling someone ought to stand up for her father at this point. "He didn't ask to be imprisoned!"

Mireen's eyes darkened, as if she knew something Kaie didn't. "And yet he remains," Mireen murmured. "Mining their silver and murdering their enemies – he can give orders from there and yet he's never requested the death of any of Thonar's people, don't you think that odd, daughter? Only the odd crony here or there."

"I'm sure he's got a plan, Ma," said Kaie softly as the two of them made their way back to the camp, leaving the warriors of the Forsworn to poke at the dead dragon in the early morning haze. "He knows we're not ready to strike yet."

"Nor will we be if he does not organise us properly," Mireen murmured. "We have a King, and yet no King worth the having. He is of no use to me, to us, in that prison!"

"You've not heard from the Ap Sithisai then," Kaie asked. In the absence of any real jailbreaking experience amongst the Forsworn, Mireen had had the idea of turning to the few outsiders the Forsworn trusted and tried invoking the Black Sacrament. Nothing. No Speaker come to treat with them, no contract to slaughter Thonar Silver-Blood and get the King in Rags out of Cidhna Mine. Their one real leader was as far away as he'd ever been... and yet information still got to him and orders still got out, which meant no one was brave enough to declare themselves king in his place for fear of his loyal agents. The violent ends of those who'd tried made that point very clear, and as his one remaining child, Kaie had personally dealt with more than a few upstarts herself. The only way anyone was taking over from Madanach was by getting into Cidhna Mine and challenging him personally... and that had never gone well. The Reach's most feared battlemage still had all his skills and all his ruthlessness.

"Nothing," Mireen sighed. "We're one camp among many and our only real advantages are that we control the sacred Karthspire mountain, and I was his wife once. Sharreela would love a camp in the centre, Drascua has people surrounding us and would like that hole in the middle of her territories plugged, and Keirine hides in the North, being no help whatsoever. She never did like me."

_You married her twin, treated him and his daughters horribly, made his life a misery throughout, so much so that he actually prefers prison to having to deal with you, and you're surprised she doesn't like you?_ But Kaie was loyal and not a fool, and Kaie said nothing. It wasn't like her mother wasn't at least trying to hold the camp together, and maintaining the place independently both as a human woman for twelve years and then as a Hag herself for the last eight was no mean feat. Both her parents individually were formidable mages and talented leaders. It was just a pity that together they were as likely to tear each other apart as work as allies.

"Much as I hate to say it, we need your father," Mireen sighed. "Keirine knows what's happening, I am near certain, but she hoards her knowledge. Drascua hoards her power, Sharreela hoards her Briar Hearts, and here we are caught in the middle. I was queen once and now look at me. We need our king, Kaie. He was the one they swore loyalty to, and Keirine will tell him what she will not tell me. The dragons go beyond infighting among us, even beyond the Nords. We need to be organised, unified, and we are not. We need Madanach, and I would go into that mine and haul him out by the hair personally if I could. As it is, I was hoping the Mor Gwadoreen might do it for me, but they have clearly got bigger concerns."

"What about the Thieves' Guild in Riften?" Kaie asked. "They must have done jailbreaks before now?"

Mireen just laughed, mad Hag's cackle as she actually grinned at Kaie. "To do that, they will first have to survive Cidhna Mine and win your father's trust. That will take some doing. He despises thieves, and Nord thieves worst of all. I think not. No, inyeen, we have no choice. You'll have to go."

Kaie's world ground to a halt as for one horrible moment she wondered if Mireen knew about Madanach's own secret jailbreak plan. The top secret scheme hatched between him, Kaie, Keirine of Hag's End and Nepos the Nose, in the works for the last six months and that had involved Kaie sneaking in and out of Markarth, running messages, setting up Druadach Redoubt as a secret base of operations for the entire Forsworn for when Cidhna stopped being theirs, leading the recent raid that had taken Kolskeggr gold mine over so they'd have a source of funds to replace the silver they'd been stealing from the Nords, sneaking in sufficient armour, weapons and supplies for six Forsworn prisoners at least, and spares for two extra in case anyone else ended up inside, and storing it all at Nepos's house, all ready for when her father finally decided the time was right to break free. All of it ready, all these carefully laid plans almost good to go, ready to spirit her father out from under the Nords' noses and off to Druadach Redoubt, and making sure her mother knew nothing, encouraging Mireen to focus on hiring the Dark Brotherhood when she already knew from her father's experiences that the Sacrament didn't work... and Mireen knew?

But Mireen was barely looking at her, and Kaie realised her mother knew nothing. Good, good, Kaie loved her mother, but she was never bringing her father back to her. If the two ever met in person again, it would be with Madanach returning with an army at his back, King to Matriarch, not husband to wife.

"What, to Markarth? You think he'll listen to me?" Kaie asked. Mireen nodded, actually patting her hand.

"Of course he will, he was always sentimental about you girls. Tell him everything about the dragons, tell him we need a united front against them. Tell him... oh, I don't know!" Mireen sighed. "Just tell him his people need help, and that if he could persuade Keirine to share her auguries, I'd appreciate it. She's supposed to be First Matriarch, she can fetching well act like it."

Now that Kaie could do. Her father would certainly appreciate the warning that Mireen was after him, and Mireen did have a point – the dragons were ravaging their camps and Kaie wasn't sure how much longer they'd be able to hold out. They'd already had to send the mothers and children to refuge at Red Eagle Redoubt, and wasn't Drascua already holding that debt over them. They needed Madanach to sort the politics out before this descended into an even bigger mess.

Cold breeze and a shadow overhead – an even bigger shadow, the black dragon that heralded doom, hovering over its deceased comrade.

"Not again," Mireen whispered, weariness finally showing. "Are they not even waiting until nightfall now?"

"Ma, do you want me to...?" Kaie said, reaching for her axe. Mireen shook her head, motioning for Kaie to go.

"No. Get to Markarth. Find your father, I know he's got agents in the guards sneaking you in. Tell him, get him to send help. And m'inyeen, if when you get back..."

"You'll hold out," Kaie said fiercely. "You're Mireen ap Cordach, rightful leader of Karthspire, descendant of Faolan himself, you'll still be here when I get back."

"I know," Mireen said, half-smile on her face, and even a Hagraven could still love her last remaining child as claws nudged Kaie's arm and those black eyes turned a gentle look at Kaie. "But if we are not... go safely, my child. Old gods keep you."

"And you. Don't stop dancing," Kaie whispered, one last hug for a mother she didn't share affection with often, and then she was running, Forsworn shouts and screams echoing in her ears as a great Shout of _"SLEN TIID VO!"_ echoed across the Karth river canyon and the dragon they'd just killed rose to life again. Kaie blinked back tears and kept running. She hoped her father would have answers, might answer the call and break out of jail at last, join up with Keirine who might just have invented some vast super-strong black soul gem that could trap even a dragon's soul, and then they might just stand a chance.

It was a very slim hope, but it was all Kaie had.

* * *

After dealing with the dragon, things actually had gone rather smoothly. Despite the singing and the babbling, Cicero had behaved himself, mostly either chatting away to Elisif or cooing to himself as he skipped along, or occasionally chatting to Esbern about dragons.

"Cicero used to have a dragon, you know, a little toy one his mama made for him called Binkie. Cicero loved that dragon! He was lost in the war, when the elves came and invaded the city... Cicero still misses him. Oh, but that was then and this is now, and dragons are _real!_ Except bigger than Cicero imagined. And not nearly as friendly."

"No, Cicero, they are not," Esbern replied, actually smiling as he humoured the little madman. "In fact, they're more dangerous even than the Thalmor, and I know you don't like the Thalmor."

Cicero disliked the Thalmor intensely, having seen the Aldmeri Dominion's soldiers invade his city, destroy his childhood home and kill his adored mother, and when they'd run into a patrol on the road, Cicero had wasted little time launching an attack. Everyone else had been left with no choice but to join in, although in all honesty no one had exactly raised too many complaints. Cicero was now wearing a set of Thalmor armour and gloves, although it didn't fit him that well. It was better than the jester outfit though, although he'd refused to part with the hat.

Of the Forsworn, they'd seen nothing, which was something to be thankful for. They'd stopped for a rest at the Old Hroldan Inn, before deciding to push on, making the most of the light. Karthspire wasn't far now.

Elisif braced herself. This was likely to be a tough fight, even with a werewolf and a jester-assassin in the party. She was a little worried about it. And then the familiar roar of a dragon echoed across the valley, and as they approached the Karthspire itself, it was on them.

There followed pitched battle, with arrows and magic flying after it, and Elisif, with Cicero using her bow, was left with very little to do other than sprint over the river to dry land and hope it'd come into land nearby. Quite what her life had come to that she was actively hoping for a dragon to land nearby, she wasn't sure, but there it was.

The dragon finally crashlanded on the other bank, and Elisif tore after it, not looking to see if the rest of the Blades were following, just knowing she had to get to it while it was down, and it was probably best if Brynjolf, Aela and Esbern stayed back anyway. So she called down Elemental Fury and carved into it, not stopping, not daring to stop, not until it howled its last and died. Then, as always, the soul-taking, and Elisif felt another one sink inside, locking itself away until she found another Word Wall.

She looked around to see how her Blades were reacting. Nothing. Not a single one of them was there, and then she heard the unmistakeable sound of Cicero shrieking, "CICERO WILL SEND YOU TO THE VOID! HAIL SITHIS! LET'S KILL SOMEOOOONNNNE!" This was followed by a werewolf's howl, and then the combination of Destruction magic and screaming.

Ah. They'd clearly found the Forsworn camp then. Pausing only to swallow a healing potion, Elisif ran to join them.

* * *

The Forsworn had fought bravely, their magic cutting the very air, but it wasn't enough against a werewolf, and Delphine's magic resistance didn't hurt either. Esbern fired magic into them from a safe distance, Brynjolf assisting with archery support, but it was Cicero and Aela carrying the day, the wolf shredding all in its way to pieces, while Cicero howled threats and abuse, hardly needing to fight anyone personally. Hardened Forsworn fighters took one look at the bloodthirsty maniac threatening to bring death in the name of Sithis, and promptly ran. Very odd. Elisif had heard of Nord warriors being able to scream battle cries so terrifying their opponents fled in terror, but she'd never heard of an Imperial having that gift. Maybe Cicero had some Nord blood somewhere.

Finally Elisif had caught up, having picked off a few stragglers but mostly been able to avoid the fighting, and it seemed Cicero and Aela had the Hagraven of the camp cornered.

"Cicero shall end you, filthy Hag!" Cicero hissed, weapons out as he advanced, his ebony dagger in one hand and an Elven war axe taken off a dead Thalmor in the other.

"It was not supposed to be this way, Sithision," the Hag hissed, not having failed to hear the shrieking. "Who hired you? Was it the Silver-Bloods?"

"No," Cicero growled, advancing. "Your people attacked first, so Cicero murders you all. That is all the soon to be dead Hag need concern herself with."

"Give the call signs next time, Dark Brother, and we would have stayed our hands," the Hag hissed. "As it is, you are not the equal of a Matriarch!"

She sent a fireball his way and Cicero shrieked and dodged. Aela however didn't even seem to care, shrugging off the ice spells that followed it as she pounced on the luckless Hag. The screams as she died echoed around the valley, and then silence. Aela staggered back, sitting on the grass, and then her beast form wore off and she was huddling up, naked.

Cicero looked up, shrieked again and looked away, blushing. Elisif wondered if there were clothes anywhere Aela could borrow, if any of the Forsworn had any armour that wasn't in pieces or bloodstained.

"You're a werewolf," and that was Delphine, glaring down at her. "You could have said!"

"Never came up in conversation," said Aela through gritted teeth. "Most people tend to object. But it's pretty much the only way to survive taking on these bastards, so I made use of it. Don't tell me you can't stand the sight of glory before you either."

"Glory is not what I'd call it," said Delphine, still scowling. "But it did the job, I suppose. Suppose I'd better find your clothes too, hmm?"

"No need, got 'em right here," Brynjolf announced cheerfully, Aela's gear in his arms. "Gave me a bit of a shock, seeing you transform like that, but no matter. Better mind yourself in future though, changing back without your gear's a bit of a drawback, eh lass?"

Aela's eyes narrowed but fortunately Delphine wasn't too pleased either, taking the gear off him and leaving it with Aela before dragging him away.

"Just let her get changed in peace, you old letch," she muttered. Brynjolf laughed, but let himself be led off. Elisif also left Aela to get dressed, instead seeking out Cicero.

"What did the Hag mean, give the right call-signs?" Elisif asked, frowning. "Do the Dark Brotherhood and the Forsworn have an agreement?"

Cicero shook his head, confused himself. "Cicero doesn't think so, pretty Elisif. No one in Cyrodiil ever mentioned the Forsworn, and Astrid certainly didn't. Cicero doesn't know any call-signs."

"But they ran when you shouted at them," Elisif said softly. "When you screamed Hail Sithis, and she called you Sithision. Who is Sithis?"

Cicero did look up then, eyes cold and dark. "Who is Sithis, the pretty dragon asks. A question best not answered, pretty one. The cold of the Void, the terror of midnight, a heart that once beated stopping its pulsing – Sithis is all those things." He tilted his head, smiling strangely. "Sithis came first, before anything. Before All That Is came into being, it was All That Is Not. That the Hags worship it too does not surprise Cicero – many others do. But as for the Hags and the Brotherhood reaching an agreement – no, Cicero knows nothing of that. It never happened, or was a long time ago."

The Dark Brotherhood had been around since the Second Era, and Elisif remembered that there'd been tales of the Reachmen being here since at least the First Era. Long histories for both, it could have happened. But the Hagraven was dead, and Elisif didn't think anyone in the Forsworn would want to talk about it. Probably best left alone then. The last thing Elisif needed was Astrid teaming up with the Forsworn to hunt her down. Best no one knew any of this. If the Forsworn worshipped the same dark deity the Brotherhood followed, that was something best forgotten by everyone.

* * *

Sunset over Karthspire, and Kaie could only stare in horror at the ruined camp, caved in tents, smoke rising from what could have been dragon fire or Destruction magic, Kaie didn't know. Bodies everywhere, blood everywhere, and up by the altar, Mireen's dead body, looking as if a beast had torn it to pieces.

Kaie put a hand to her mouth, choking back tears. Maybe Mireen hadn't been the nicest woman on the planet, but she'd still been Kaie's mother. Now she was gone.

"Who did this?" Kaie whispered, heedless of the tears on her cheeks. "Who?"

"Princess?" she heard a voice cry. "Princess, is that you?"

"It's me," Kaie said listlessly. No point turning to see who it was, no enemy would call her Princess.

A small group of Forsworn warriors emerged, the survivors who'd fled the destruction returning to see what could be salvaged. One of them approached, a dark-haired man with facepaint who Kaie remembered was called Cuilann, dropping to his knees before her.

"Princess," he whispered. "We're so sorry. They just came out of nowhere, they had power like you wouldn't believe!"

"They had a werewolf," said another, a woman this time with ash-coloured hair and vivid green eyes, called Fionnuala if Kaie recalled correctly. "And a mage, and oh Princess, there was one with red hair and eyes like the Void, who wore a jester hat and fought like nothing we'd ever seen! He – he was a Mor Gwador, princess, he was invoking Sithis, said he'd send us to the Void."

Kaie felt her knees shake and she sat down before she could fall down. The Dark Brotherhood, taking contracts against the Forsworn? That was bad. That was beyond bad. If the old gods had abandoned them, if Sithis had turned against them...

"Where are they?" Kaie asked. "Where did they go, do you know?"

Wordlessly, the surviving Forsworn pointed at the Karthspire itself.

"They went inside," Cuilann said. "Killed everyone in there too. Then they went into the old Akaviri ruins. They're still there."

"Are they," said Kaie softly, drawing her axe. "Well then, it's about time we went and showed them who the true children of Sithis are, don't you?"

She cast her armour and would have turned, but Fionnuala grabbed her arm.

"There's more!" she cried. "They got inside the ruins, don't ask me how! They got the bridges down, unsealed the place, and we followed... but it's a dead end. Just a courtyard with a man's face on the wall and a blood seal on the floor. None of our blood would open it. And they're not there. It's like they just vanished."

Kaie lowered her hands. They'd unsealed the Akaviri ruins. Got inside, made a base in there and sealed them up afterwards. Kaie and her sisters as children had tried to explore many times, but got no further than the fire trap, at which point Eithne had sustained a nasty burn to the arm and their parents had, united for once, unanimously banned any further trips into the old ruins. Now these alleged Dark Brotherhood assassins had got in there first go? Kaie had never heard of the Dark Brotherhood having any Akaviri links so how had they got inside?

"What else?" Kaie asked, mentally drafting the report she'd have to make. "Names, descriptions, anything you can give me."

"The red-haired daedra in the jester hat was called Cicero," Fionnuala whispered. "I don't know who the werewolf was but there was an old Nord wizard, short hair, grubby white tunic, and a red-haired Nord archer in black leather armour with lots of straps and pockets and a hood. Also an older blonde Breton, but not a Reachwoman, I don't think. Had leather armour and a curved sword, not seen its like before."

"Then there was this young Nord girl with red hair, really pretty, younger than us even, we think," Cuilann added. "And that's the oddest thing of all. She had this fiery sword and it was her who killed the dragon, just ran after it without even flinching after they shot it down. Carved it to bits all by herself. And then..." Wordless, he pointed at the dragon's body, just visible on the crest of the hill to the south. Kaie squinted and realised she wasn't looking at the corpse she'd seen this morning. She was looking at a skeleton.

"It burned as it died, and then the fire all went inside her," Cuilann gasped. "Princess, we think she took its very soul!"

"I don't think that one's coming back," Fionnuala added, seeming to perk up a bit at something at least going right. Kaie just stared at it, dazed. A super-strong soul gem that could capture a dragon's soul – and it existed, just not in gem form. A human woman, a Nord. Her father was going to absolutely love that.

"Princess, what do we do?" Cuilann was asking, sounding a little desperate. "Did you want us to go to Red Eagle Redoubt, get warriors to help us retake the camp?"

"No," said Kaie, realising Karthspire camp was a lost cause, especially if these mysterious Mor Gwadoreen Akaviri had occupied the ruins and one could kill dragons permanently. "Get yourselves there and get help, salvage everything in this camp and get the bodies seen to. But don't try and re-occupy the place, just leave it be. If they come out, do not try and fight them, just run."

"But Princess, they killed our Matriarch!" Fionnuala protested. "We have to do something!"

"Yes, and we will," Kaie said, steeling herself. "But this is beyond us, bigger than us, and one camp can't deal with this. We need our King."

"What's he going to do from in prison?" Cuilann asked, rolling his eyes. Kaie didn't even blink before she'd dealt him a sharp backhander.

"Then maybe we'll get him out of prison," Kaie said coldly, ignoring Cuilann as he rubbed his face and whimpered. "Maybe we'll get our leader back and he'll lead the reclamation force personally. Then we can either treat with them or put them to fire and the sword. But that is the King's call to make, not yours. Get back to Red Eagle Redoubt and tell them Karthspire camp is no more and that it is off-limits until I get word from the King."

"We will, Princess," Fionnuala promised, helping Cuilann up. "And you? Are you going to Markarth now?"

"Yes," said Kaie, getting unsteadily to her feet. "I'll be at Nepos's. The King will need a full report and I'm the only one who can get in to see him. Old gods keep you, when I have orders, I'll be back."

Waved goodbyes, and Kaie was running back across the Reach's fields, to where she kept her secret stash of leather armour used for passing unremarked in the Nords' city. Time to brief her father. Madanach the King in Rags was needed like he'd never been.

* * *

Sky Haven Temple proved to be everything Elisif had hoped for and then some. The place was huge! Carved right into the centre of the Karthspire, a great hall in the middle with a banqueting table and Alduin's Wall itself on the right-hand side, then all the rooms and corridors leading off it, including a library, an armoury, a communal kitchen, bedrooms, then the courtyard at the back, overgrown but with some impressive views of the Reach. It was a little run-down but Delphine seemed to think it was salvageable and was already having conversations with Brynjolf over how to get the place outfitted.

Esbern hadn't stopped enthusing over the architecture since he'd got there, and had had an avid listener in Cicero who'd skipped after him, cooing over it all, and whether Cicero actually understood all Esbern's commentary on the mix of ancient Nord and Akaviri building styles was debatable, but his enthusiasm was undeniable. Elisif sat at the table, watching and listening and smiling as Esbern pointed key features on the wall out to Cicero.

"You see, Cicero, it's all here, all the elements of the prophecy of the Dragonborn. Look, here is the Numidium, the Brass Tower of legend, and here is an Oblivion Gate, representing the Oblivion Crisis, and here, this is the last part, the Last Dragonborn contending with Alduin at the end of time with Blades in support – look, you can see their distinctive Akaviri longswords."

Cicero had tilted his head, almost bent in two as he contorted himself to peer at the Dragonborn on the wall more closely.

"It doesn't look like Elisif," he said, scratching his head. "It looks like a man if Cicero is honest."

"Well, they didn't know who the last Dragonborn would be," Esbern explained patiently. "So they carved a generic figure to represent the Dragonborn."

"Prejudice and discrimination!" Aela announced as she arrived from the armoury. "Men aren't generic either."

Esbern opened his mouth to argue the point, then noticed Delphine come in to see how far he'd got with the Wall, and decided that three armed warrior women were not the audience to argue this with.

"Yes, very true, Aela, but this was back in the First Era and standards were different back then, in fact it could be anyone under all that armour."

"So it could," Delphine replied, taking a seat and putting her feet up on the table. "Got anywhere with finding out how they defeated Alduin yet?"

"Ah yes, well, the first defeat of Alduin is the centrepiece of the whole panel," Esbern explained, indicating the huge dragon in the middle. "Look, this is Alduin falling from the sky, and here are the Tongues arrayed against him."

"I know that, Esbern," Delphine sighed, closing her eyes and leaning wearily back in her chair. "What we need to know is how."

"Well, I've been thinking about that," Esbern said, indicating the three Tongues and the swirls emanating from their mouths. "This looks like the Akaviri symbol for a Shout, yes, see how it's coming from their mouths in unison. It seems there was a Shout used to defeat Alduin. Unfortunately there's no way to determine what Shout was used."

Delphine took her feet off the table, folding her arms and resting her head on them, slowly shaking her head and cursing.

"Well, a Shout makes sense," said Aela thoughtfully. "You're a Dragonborn, stands to reason if you're meant to fight Alduin it'd be the Thu'um you'd use to defeat him. So where do you learn your Shouts from?"

"Word Walls," said Elisif, staring at Alduin's Wall as if the Thu'um would leap out of it at her. Alas, no such luck. "But that isn't one. Otherwise, the only other place I've learnt Shouts from is the Greybeards."

"Knew it!" Delphine sighed, finally sitting up. "Damn it all. I suppose that means we'll have to ask them for help. Good thing they've already let you into their little cult."

"It is not a – look, just what have you got against the Greybeards anyway?" Elisif snapped, having had just about enough of Delphine's attitude. "They're the sacred holders of our traditions! Dedicated to peace and learning! They've done nothing wrong!"

"No, because they've done nothing!" Delphine shot back. "All they do is sit up on that mountain, hoarding the sacred knowledge of your people for themselves. Think about it, have they tried to stop Alduin, or do anything about the war? No. They've left all that up to you."

"I am Dragonborn and Queen, I know my duty when I see it," Elisif said firmly. "And it's probably a good thing not all Nords know the Thu'um. Power in the wrong hands is dangerous!"

"Power's no good to anyone if no one ever uses it!" Delphine cried. "The Greybeards are afraid of it, and they're afraid of you, of your power. So they drip-feed you with knowledge, make you work for it, just a few Shouts here and there, simple ones, weak ones, throwing people to the ground, running fast, limiting your knowledge because they're afraid of what you might do with it."

"So they should be!" Elisif shouted, getting to her feet. "Unrelenting Force might be weak but it still felled a king! Are you surprised they keep the knowledge secret? If you're not afraid of this power, you've not understood it."

The room had gone quiet in the wake of her outburst, Esbern and Aela both looking away uncomfortably, Cicero hopping over and wringing his hands nervously,

"You don't need to be afraid, Elisif," Delphine said softly, and she met Elisif's eyes without flinching. "It's not a curse. It's a gift."

From a god with a sense of humour, clearly. Why not give a grieving widow the same power that killed her husband? Clearly _nothing _could go wrong there, oh no, not at all.

"Some gift," Elisif whispered. Delphine at least had the grace to look a bit sympathetic.

"If not you, somebody else would have it. Someone has to stop Alduin, why not you? At least you won't misuse it. Just don't go too far the other way either, that's all I ask. We need you, Dragonborn and we need you strong."

Elisif nodded, too tired to argue the point. And Delphine was right, the dragons had to be stopped, she knew that... she just wished the ones meant to help her would stop arguing.

"Hey, Delphine, take a look at this armoury!" Brynjolf emerged from it, two swords like Delphine's in his hands and wearing a set of steel armour that Elisif had never seen anything like before. "This stuff is worth a fortune!" He struck a few poses, dual-wielding the swords with the skill of a born warrior, although he wasn't moving as gracefully as he usually did, clearly not used to the heavy steel.

"You are not selling our stock of Blades armour!" Delphine shouted, getting out of her chair.

"Why not, we could make a bit of gold off this," Brynjolf said, sheathing his katanas. "Come on, Del, you want this place outfitted? That's not going to come cheap."

"You're a thief, steal something!" Delphine cried, exasperated. "NOT off me!"

"Ah yes, the way to a woman's heart, stealing and fencing her things," Aela said calmly, smirking at Brynjolf. "Good one, Brynjolf."

Brynjolf, faced with that logic, did relent on that point, and Delphine decided to go investigate this armoury. Elisif followed after, more than curious herself. That armour did look shiny.

"Loads of it, look at it, and it's good as new!" Delphine breathed. Aela was peering over her shoulder, impressed, and Cicero had crept in too, cooing at it.

"Not bad," Aela noted. "Although a little heavy for my tastes. I'll have a sword and shield though."

Cicero likewise tried a set of it, attempting to sword-fight in it but definitely lacking his usual finesse.

"Cicero cannot move in this," Cicero scowled. "How is Cicero supposed to sneak up on people dressed like this, they will hear him coming a mile off!"

"You can't sneak up on a dragon," Delphine sighed. "But if you insist, get it off and take a sword instead. What about you, Elisif, want a set?"

Elisif stroked the cuirass of a Blades armour set, thinking it over. On the one hand, she wasn't really used to heavy armour herself... but on the other she wasn't the sneaky type either and it would keep her safe from dragons.

"If there's some that would fit me," she said hopefully. Delphine smiled and led her further in, and eventually they found a set that was a perfect fit. Delphine and Aela helped her into it, and there was a mirror nearby. Elisif stared at herself, the Akaviri steel plating fitting her like a glove. It was heavier than she was used to, but not nearly as hard to move in as Cicero had made out. She could get to like it, and it looked fabulous.

"I really like it," Elisif whispered.

"Then consider it yours," Delphine told her. "Oh, that reminds me. Something else I meant to give you!"

She disappeared into the shadows and returned with an Akaviri katana. Different to the others, brighter, shinier... and when Delphine unsheathed it, the lightning dancing on the blade proved why.

"Dragonbane," Delphine said quietly. "Legendary lost Akaviri dragonslaying blade, allegedly forged for Reman Cyrodiil. You should have it. Wield it with that Dawnbreaker one, you'll be unstoppable."

Elisif took the blade, gasping as the lightning danced in the half-light. She gave it an experimental swing and couldn't help but squeal at the light.

"I can keep this?" she gasped, amazed. Delphine nodded, grinning.

"Of course you can. You're the gifted dragonslayer after all. Only fair you should have the dragon blade. Give Alduin a few hits from me when you finally corner the bastard, won't you?"

Elisif sheathed it, promising she would do that very thing. All right, perhaps Delphine wasn't so bad after all. Not that Elisif would admit she was starting to like the woman, of course not. But new armour and a new sword went a long way towards it.

* * *

A/N: Setup for the next segment, this one, but the next segment's good. Next chapter has Elisif visiting Markarth and being appalled by the corruption and violence in a city that should be supporting her, and Cicero makes a new friend...

Translation of the Forsworn language for those not familiar with Nightshade and Juniper:

Ap - child of  
Ap Sithisai - children of Sithis  
Sithision - son of Sithis  
Inyeen - daughter  
M'inyeen - my daughter  
Mor Gwadoreen - Dark Brotherhood


	12. Chapter 12

Summary: A simple day trip to Markarth turns into the stuff of nightmares as Elisif witnesses its corruption firsthand, the Dark Brotherhood are in the city and Cicero finds a friend who... understands him.

A/N: I am so sorry about this one. Basically, the entire second half of this chapter is probably going to squick half the readership. To sum up, Cicero ends up doing the Taste of Death, because he's a disturbed and depraved individual willing to do virtually anything an attractive woman tells him to. So, if this is likely to offend you, and frankly I quite understand, skip the second half, starting from when Cicero sneaks into the Hall of the Dead. All you need to know is Cicero does the Namira quest and being the good, obedient boy he is, gets the Ring of Namira and Eola as his new lady friend and Blades recruit.

* * *

Three days later, and Elisif was starting to go stir-crazy. Yes, there'd been the excitement on the first morning when the second dragon had attacked the courtyard, but the six of them had made short work of it. But that was two days ago now, and Elisif was bored.

Brynjolf had left for Riften on day two to see about running a few jobs, get some coin pulled together to fit the place out properly. Delphine and Aela had gone to see if the remains of Karthspire camp had anything worth having, but it appeared the Forsworn had returned in the night to clear the place up, because the entire place had been uprooted and cleared. Even the bodies had been claimed. Aela had sworn she'd seen a few in the undergrowth, but they'd fled at the sight of them.

"We've got them on the run, Delphine," Aela had said, sounding rather proud of herself. Delphine hadn't been so sure.

"Those are just scouting parties, I think," Delphine said, brooding. "They know we're here, they know what we did to that camp. They're a lot more unified than people think, I think they're just biding their time until they know more. We'll have to be careful."

Elisif wished there was some way of negotiating with them. She didn't want to hurt them, she might even be able to agree to them having their land back, or at least having a Reachman Jarl. But Igmund's family had been in charge of the Reach for years. She had to be fair to him as well.

Well, all this was academic anyway. Not like she'd ever end up having to negotiate with whoever led the Forsworn. Did they even have a leader? Delphine seemed to think so, but who knew.

Aela had left on day three to go back to Jorrvaskr, see how Kodlak was doing and see how the city in general was managing. And if rumours of Dark Brotherhood activity could be gleaned too, Elisif was fine with that. Brynjolf had already promised to talk to his own sources in the Guild, but Elisif wasn't sure how far she could trust the thief. Sure, he was friendly and charming and seemed genuinely fond of her, but the fact remained he was still Thieves Guild and who knew how intertwined they really were with the Dark Brotherhood.

So it was just the four of them, Esbern exploring the library, Delphine exploring the rest of the Temple and clearing out various rooms, unearthing bits and pieces that could be useful. She'd already got one of the bathrooms – an indoor bathroom! That pumped running water from the Karth! - up and running, and the kitchen was good to go too. Cicero had been surprisingly helpful, scampering after Delphine and helping with the heavy lifting and fetching and carrying and chopping firewood and going hunting, returning with lots of fresh meat, pelts and some almost certainly stolen potatoes. She just hoped he'd not stabbed anyone in the process. Easy to forget the man murdered for money and indeed his own enjoyment sometimes. But most of the time, he was perfectly sweet and friendly, cooing and fussing over his pretty Dragonborn and lovely Grand Mistress.

"It's Grand Master," Delphine sighed. "Acting Grand Master. The Akaviri language used the same word for both male and female leaders, so we do the same."

Cicero just giggled, biting his thumb and looking coyly at her.

"Cicero thinks Grand Mistress suits pretty Delphine," he purred. Delphine just put her head in her hands, exasperated.

"Still not interested, Cicero," Delphine sighed. "Go and bother someone else. Does Esbern need anything?"

"Esbern is more interested in books than people," Cicero muttered. Then he shrugged and got up. "But he is still nicer than any of Astrid's people were." Whistling to himself, he skipped off, presumably to bother Esbern.

Elisif took advantage of the quiet and went to sit next to Delphine.

"Delphine," she said quietly. "Delphine, what are we doing next? I mean, we got this far, and believe me, I'm very thankful for the help... but I can't stay here forever and there's only six of us, four of us with Aela and Brynjolf gone. What next?"

"You're meant to be off to see the Greybeards, but I don't really want you going alone, and while I like Cicero, I don't entirely trust him," Delphine sighed. "Damn it, if we just had more people... but as it is, you'll have to wait for Bryn or Aela to get back and take you up there."

Frustrating indeed, especially with dragons out there ravaging Skyrim. But if all that was needed were more people...

"Delphine," Elisif began. "What if I recruited some more people?"

Delphine lowered her quill and notebook and looked Elisif over, surprised.

"You'd do that?" she said, surprised. "Well, I suppose you did sort of get us Cicero, and I know Aela's involved mostly to keep an eye on you. All right, if you find anyone suitable and trustworthy and not a Thalmor agent, I guess I can take a look at them. Did you have anyone in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Elisif, grinning. "His name's Erandur and he's a Dunmer and priest of Mara. He lives a solitary life in Dawnstar but he's still quite capable. I helped him save Dawnstar from the Daedra Vaermina, and he helped me save Haafingar from no less than two necromancer covens. He's not got much of a life to leave behind in Dawnstar, I think he'd love to come here and help."

"You think so, do you?" Delphine said, thinking this over. At length, she nodded. "All right. If you vouch for him, he can join us. Get to Markarth today, hire a courier and write to him, tell him to come to the Old Hroldan Inn. Take Cicero with you – I'm not sure I'd want to inflict him on the Greybeards, but you should be all right just taking him into the city. Frankly, getting him out from under my feet for a few hours is doing me a huge service."

Entirely understandable – too much Cicero would give anyone a headache after a while. Elisif had never met anyone quite so desperate for company. Then there'd been the time she'd got up in the middle of the night to find him wandering the corridors, looking scared and pitiful and wanting to know if she knew where his mother was. She'd not really known what to do other than take him outside to sit under the stars for a bit and cuddle him, whispering she was sure his mother was out there somewhere and thinking of him too. He snuggled her back, and then whispered that if Astrid had hurt Mother, he would carve her to pieces. Elisif really hadn't known what to say to that, other than pat him on the back and tell him maybe he'd be able to go home one day. He'd just smiled that sad little smile of his and thanked her for her kindness. They'd stayed out there for some time before he'd finally got cold and walked her back to her bedroom. She still wasn't sure if he'd actually slept at all that night, but he'd seemed perky enough the next day.

Even so, she was sure being cooped up in Sky Haven Temple wasn't good for him. Getting him some fresh air and some new scenery would be just the thing, she was sure. Prophetic really, because a few moments later, in he walked, brandishing her ebony bow.

"This will not do!" he snapped. "This will not do at all."

Delphine rubbed her forehead, clearly having a headache coming on.

"What won't do?" she sighed.

"This!" Cicero snapped, thrusting the bow at Elisif. "Sweet Elisif, pretty Elisif, Cicero knows you meant well and he thanks you for the loan, but it simply won't do. This bow is ALL WRONG!"

Elisif took it back off him, inspecting it. It didn't look any different to when she'd given it to him, and he'd used it well enough before.

"What's wrong with it?" Elisif asked. Cicero sank down into the chair next to her, arms folded as he glared sternly at her.

"It is the _wrong size!_" he hissed. Elisif scratched her head. She'd always thought bows were fairly interchangeable, but she supposed Cicero knew more than she did about archery. Delphine had just gone back to her work, smiling to herself.

"I didn't know bows came in sizes..." she began, but Cicero was nodding vigorously.

"Oh yes, yes indeed!" he breathed. "They must be precisely calibrated to the wielder's height and arm length. Otherwise it works... but not well. Cicero's poor arm is very sore from all the shooting at dragons and Forsworn." He looked up at her, those dark eyes staring pitifully at her as he pouted.

"I... you poor thing," Elisif said, glancing at Delphine, who was biting her lip and looking like she was trying not to laugh, which really wasn't that nice of her. "I was going to Markarth today anyway, did you want to come? I can get you a new bow while we're there."

Cicero looked, inhaled and then squealed, clutching his hands together and beaming at her.

"Cicero would love to!" he gasped. "Cicero thought you would never ask! Let humble Cicero get his things and we shall be on our way. Cicero and the Dragonborn, on the hunt!" Cicero skipped off, singing happily to himself, presumably to find his weapons and armour. Delphine lowered her quill and grinned at Elisif.

"There you go, you were wondering what to do next. Now you've got a plan."

She had indeed, although Delphine could look a little less cheerful.

"The poor man, I had no idea the bow was hurting him!" Elisif whispered. "And you! Laughing at him! He was in pain!"

Delphine chuckled, shaking her head. "I – yes, I'm awful, laughing at poor Cicero like that. Poor man. Well, he's yours for the day, so you look after him, you hear? Don't let him wander off or get into trouble. I wouldn't want him arrested, especially not here. Markarth's prison's a dangerous one."

What was so dangerous about it, Elisif didn't like to ask, although Torygg had mentioned it once or twice too, always refusing to tell her the details on the grounds no decent woman should have to hear about the cutthroats and murderers that inhabited the place. Cicero might be an assassin, but he was also needy and vulnerable and definitely didn't need locking up in what was essentially a high security hole in the ground.

No, this would be a flying visit, just to find a courier, write to Erandur, find Cicero a new bow then back home. Nothing could be easier.

* * *

Markarth loomed up in the noonday sun, Dwemer stonework gleaming in the sunlight and making Elisif's eyes hurt. Cicero trotted behind, staring at it in awe. It turned out he'd not seen anything like it since leaving Cyrodiil.

"Look at it, Maia, look!" he gasped. "Stone, stone, solid stone, like in the Imperial City! And yet... not."

Elisif had never been to the Imperial City, in fact she'd not even been to Cyrodiil. Suppressing a pang of envy, she patted his arm.

"It was built by the Dwarves, long ago," she told him. "Then it got settled by the Reachmen, and then it became a Nord city when the Reach became part of Skyrim."

"When Tiber Septim won the Battle of Old Hroldan and defeated the Forsworn," Cicero grinned, having read a few books on the Reach that Esbern had found for him in the library. "Yes, yes, Cicero has read of it. So much _blood!_" He cackled to himself, rubbing his hands. Elisif shivered a little, wishing he didn't have to be quite so gleeful over the idea.

"Well, Markarth is quite safe these days," she told him. "The Forsworn only attack in the hills and wilderness. You don't have to worry."

"Oh, Cicero wasn't worried," Cicero purred, fingering the hilt of his ebony dagger, and Elisif could only sigh as she recalled yet again that death and violence didn't put Cicero off. Quite the reverse. She just hoped he'd behave himself in Markarth.

"Welcome to Markarth, traveller," the guard on the gate said as they passed by, Elisif back in her scaled armour with Dragonbane and Dawnbreaker at her side, and Cicero in his elven gear, the hat hidden away but she was sure he had it on him. "Safest city in the Reach."

Only city in the Reach, unless the definition of city had changed recently. Elisif was sure she'd have remembered the paperwork if it had. Still, she nodded at the guard and entered.

The gates opened onto the market, Dwemer buildings looming over them, the inn on the left, houses built into the cliff on the right and the Markarth Brook flowing down the central street. It looked beautiful, although Elisif could hear smelters and forges from the other side of the central crag and was sure the industrial centre of Markarth was less appealing. Still, this side of the city looked nice.

Elisif was looking around to see if there was a forge anywhere when it happened.

"Glory to the Forsworn! The Reach will be ours again!"

Forsworn? Here? Elisif drew Dawnbreaker, staring around wildly and then she saw him, near the jewellery stall, a Reachman with a knife. Before she could do anything, he'd grabbed the Nord woman who'd been browsing and slit her throat.

Elisif stared as the woman slumped lifelessly to the floor and the guards struck, butchering the killer in seconds.

"I die... for my country..." he gasped as he died, and then he lay still, blood pooling out everywhere. Kynareth save her. What sort of city was this?

Behind her, Cicero cackled and capered, delighted.

"Hee! HEEEEE! Cicero likes this place already! Cicero should have come here years ago!"

Elisif sheathed her sword, feeling her knees go weak and her stomach turn as she remembered Ulfric sinking a sword into her husband, blood everywhere and now another innocent had just died in front of her. Shaking, Elisif sat down by the wall, trying not to cry. She should never have come here, never.

"Maia? Maia? Pretty Maia?" Cicero was kneeling by her side, looking worried. "Are you all right?"

"No!" Elisif gasped. "I just saw a woman murdered, of course I'm not all right!"

Cicero paused and then began stroking her hair.

"Of course, of course you are not, Maia is not used to death and blood. Maia is sweet! Innocent! Maia is a dragonslaying hero, Maia does not trouble herself with such things as removal of her enemies, no. That is what loyal Cicero is for, is it not? Do not worry, sweet Maia, Cicero will look after you."

Elisif really didn't know how he could change from murderous to sweet in seconds, but she was rather glad of it. Then a shadow fell over them both and Elisif looked up, hand going to her sword.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

It turned out to be a young Reachman, face painted in the traditional style, but not dressed like a Forsworn, or armed as far as Elisif could see. He just looked like a young man out for a walk.

"It's fine," Elisif said, letting Cicero help her up. "I just had to sit down for a bit after..." She indicated where the guards had brought stretchers and were hauling bodies away. The young Reachman shivered, looking sympathetic.

"I know, I saw it too. To have such a thing happen here in the city... how much did you see?"

"Saw the whole thing," Elisif whispered. "I just couldn't do anything about it. My first time in Markarth and this happens!"

"That must have been a horrible shock," the young man said. "I hope the Eight give you more peace in the future. Oh! I think you dropped this. Some sort of note, fell out of your pocket."

Elisif's hand went to the sealed letter to Erandur in her pocket but it was still there, quite safe. She frowned at the young man.

"I didn't drop anything – is this your note?"

He shook his head, utterly guileless. "No, that's your note. You dropped it when you sat down." He pushed it into her hand and turned to leave, and now Elisif was sure something was up.

"Do you know something about all this?" Elisif demanded. She was almost positive he did, and if someone was behind the attack, if it wasn't a one-off, she was honour-bound to do something about it.

"Me? No," the young man laughed, shaking his head. "I just stepped out for some air. Had one too many pints of mead at the Silver-Blood inn."

Drinking in the middle of the day? But Elisif hadn't smelled mead on his breath. She watched suspiciously as he left and then opened the note.

_Meet me at the Shrine to Talos._

Well hadn't this little mess just got complicated. She showed the note to Cicero to see what he made of it.

"What do you think he wants?" she murmured. Cicero pursed his lips, frowning.

"Cicero doesn't know but he is up to something. He is not Brotherhood, no, but Cicero doesn't trust him. He lies, Maia. He knows too much." Cicero's frown faded and then he was all smiles again. "But Maia doesn't need to worry about this. Maia has business in this city and once that is done, Maia and Cicero go home, yes? Yes! Let Markarth deal with its own problems."

"Markarth's problems are my problems, I can't just walk away from this, Cicero! I'm queen!" Elisif protested. Cicero's smile faded as his eyes darkened and he glared at her. Elisif felt her bravado fade as she remembered that for all the prancing and posturing, Cicero was underneath it all a very dangerous man.

"Now see here," he murmured, voice dropping to a growling low pitch. "Sweet Delphine was very insistent that you are important. She was most keen that you return safe and unharmed. Cicero thinks that if Elisif starts poking under stones, things might start crawling out from under them... and that would be bad. Very bad indeed. Also if Elisif were harmed, Astrid would take the credit and Cicero will not have that. Let the filthy pretender work for her coin!"

Fair point, it wasn't like Elisif didn't have other things to do. All the same, she could sense the secrets, the corruption just under the surface of this city. When she was queen, she promised, she'd come back here and talk to Igmund and see just what sort of city he was running here. But for now, she had a courier to hire and a bow to buy for Cicero.

* * *

Courier hired, letter sent, Erandur likely to be on the way within a few days, and now Elisif was haggling over the price of an Elven bow with Ghorza, the Orc who ran the forge. It was very shiny and Cicero had taken one look and starting cooing over it. So Elisif had bitten the bullet and asked after it. Good thing she'd been able to top up her coin purse to a full thousand septims before leaving Solitude really.

"Do you need his measurements?" Elisif asked, reaching for her purse. Ghorza stopped, looked up and stared at her as if she was insane.

"I'm selling him weapons, not armour," Ghorza growled. "Why would I need to measure him?"

"To make sure it's in his size..." Elisif stopped, seeing the incredulous stare the Orc was giving her, and slowly turned to look at Cicero, who was giggling nervously, looking rather flushed.

"Your arm wasn't sore at all, was it?" she snapped, glaring at him. "Did you just want a new bow? You could have just asked!"

Cicero giggled, swaying from side to side as he looked coyly up at her. "Oh but sweetling, you might have said no! Or left poor Cicero behind! And Cicero cannot keep using yours, can he?" He turned to Ghorza, producing his own coin purse. "Four hundred and forty septims for the bow, yes? Here!"

Ghorza took the coin, probably just wanting to get him out of her shop and gave him the bow. Elisif could only shake her head as she followed him out.

"I really don't get you sometimes," she sighed. Cicero was still giggling. "Do you have any money left?"

"Well, no," Cicero admitted. "Not a lot. But some! More will come. It always does. Oh but sweet Maia, pretty Maia, it was a funny joke, was it not? You believed me! Believed foolish Cicero's funny joke!"

Which Delphine hadn't seen fit to enlighten her about either, although it was possible the Breton had seized at any excuse to get Cicero out of her hair. Elisif had her hands on her hips, glaring at the little jester, who just laughed all the harder. At least he did... until he glanced over her shoulder, the smile fading, blood draining from his face and then he promptly dived into the Markarth Brook, hiding under Ghorza's forge, out of sight, finger pressed to his lips.

Elisif would have asked why until she saw the figure walking down the steps from the Hag's Cure alchemy shop at the top of the city. A woman in hooded red and black robes with a handprint on the front, and as she approached, Elisif could see the grey skin of a Dunmer. Cicero had gone pale, hiding in the shadows and while he didn't look scared exactly, he looked nervous. Elisif could only think of one reason for Cicero to look nervous. Red and black, like the armour on that Argonian who tried to kill her, and Elisif didn't know if it was a good thing or not that she knew his name now, Veezara he'd been called.

This woman was clearly one of his siblings in darkness. Elisif drew out of the way, staying close to the wall and watching out of the corner of her eyes as the woman headed for Understone Keep, barely sparing her a second glance. It wasn't until she'd gone that Cicero finally clambered out of the stream, shaking the water off himself.

"Who was she?" Elisif whispered, needing confirmation of the worst.

"Gabriella," Cicero murmured, the syllables rolling over his tongue like poison. "Obsessed with death, claims to venerate Mother but she's Astrid's really. Never stepped in to defend poor Cicero from the others' teasing, no!" He turned to Elisif, looking unusually grim. "Maia must go. Now. Leave the city, go back to the Temple. Cicero shall deal with this."

Elisif nodded, looking nervously at the rest of the city, wondering if there were any others out there. Cicero seemed to guess what she was thinking.

"Do not worry, pretty one. Astrid has few enough people left to her and she could not have known you would be here. She is likely here alone on other business. You will be safe once Cicero has dealt with her. But go you must! Quickly now! Cicero shall see you back at our Sanctuary."

Without further words, Cicero was gone, slinking off after the Dunmer and Elisif could guess what he was planning. The thought made her a bit sick, but on the other hand, her safety lay in secrecy and Gabriella was an assassin after all. Even so, the thought of Cicero killing her in cold blood unsettled her. This city had seen enough death.

Elisif recalled the note the young Reachman had given her earlier. To meet at the Shrine of Talos. It had to be about that young woman's death, must be.

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. With the Dark Brotherhood around, she should be heeding Cicero's words and fleeing the city. But Cicero had said she was likely a lone assassin too. Which meant maybe Elisif might be all right. Markarth needed help, that was clear, and what sort of queen would she be if she let fear get in the way? She could at least see what this Reachman wanted. Slipping away, Elisif went off in search of the Shrine to Talos. She had a murder to investigate.

* * *

Gabriella had made her way into the Keep, apparently unaware of Cicero tailing her. Good. Cicero hadn't got where he had in life by being bad at his job – quite the reverse. Clinging to the shadows, he watched as Gabriella stood in the corridor, watching a priest of Arkay arguing with a Nord warrior about the Hall of the Dead being shut. As the Nord stormed off, Gabriella approached the priest.

"Excuse me, brother, did I hear correctly? The Hall of the Dead is shut? Whatever for?"

"Does it matter?" the priest snapped. "It's closed, you can't go in there, that's the end of it."

"What?" Gabriella cried. "But I always visit Arkay's shrines when I'm in a big city. I'm a devout follower of the god of death, I was hoping for his blessings! Can't you at least tell me why? Or is it coin you're after?"

"It's not... all right, I'll tell you. But you have to keep it to yourself." The priest whispered to Gabriella who looked suitably impressed – if a little appalled.

"That's awful," the Dunmer said, sounding sympathetic. "Would you like me to help? It sounds like it just might be my area of expertise. I'm very skilled at... pest control."

"Well, I was going to ask the Jarl to hire someone... all right, here's the key. See what you can do. Any help you can offer would be wonderful."

Gabriella promised she would and made her way off to the Hall of the Dead. Wanting to meditate over dead bodies, that was Gabriella all over. Cicero smiled, drawing his dagger and pulling his hat on, his lucky hat that helped him sneak better. What better place to kill someone than a mausoleum? Made hiding a body so much easier.

* * *

"Not many would walk into a crypt blindly, smelling of steel and blood... but not fear."

Gabriella started up at the voice, seeming to echo off the walls and inside Cicero's head too as he crept in after her.

_Mother? Is that your voice I hear? _No, no, surely not, Mother wasn't here, Mother was in Falkreath, all alone, far away... This was someone else. Someone different. Someone... wrong. But not in a bad way. Cicero shivered. That voice was the very soul of evil and he could feel it enticing him on. Was she talking to Gabriella or him though?

"I don't know who you are," Gabriella said imperiously, casting her mage armour. "But you have no business here. Show yourself, shadow warrior. Let us at least talk like reasonable adults."

Laughter, soft sibilant chuckling echoing around the stone tombs. "I wasn't talking to you, Dark Elf. But since you asked... I know your robes, Dark Sister. Are you here to kill me or recruit me?"

"Verulus wants this place cleansed. He didn't specify how," Gabriella said, looking around in vain. "But we could do with the recruits. Even if you are a... corpse-eater." A little shudder from the Dunmer, and Cicero's eyes shot up. The mysterious woman had been living here, eating corpses? How revolting. Disgusting. Vile. Filthy. _Enticing._ Cicero shivered, shaking his head, repressing memories of killing previous victims, seeing the blood flow and resisting the urge to taste it. Sometimes he'd not resisted. Wrong, wrong, he knew... but so hard, so hard to resist. Seemed this woman had gone one step further. Then Cicero saw Gabriella looking up, frowning.

"Wait, who else is here?" she asked, reaching for her dagger. No response from the woman other than more soft laughter. Cicero reached for his own knife, guessing he didn't have much time. He also guessed the mysterious woman wouldn't object too hard to witnessing a good stabbing.

Cicero pounced. Gabriella had just enough time to see him and cry "You? How?" before Cicero slit her throat and let her fall lifeless to the floor, blood pooling out and yes this felt good, felt so good, blood everywhere, just how he liked it. Cicero dropped to his knees beside her body, helping himself to her coin purse, all five hundred septims of it, replenishing his own. He knew he'd find money eventually. He always did.

"Now that's more like it," the hidden woman breathed, sounding delighted and Cicero hissed quietly. Whoever this little harlot was, she had no right whatsoever sounding so seductive and aroused and doing strange things to Cicero's head like she was.

"Who are you," he growled. "Show yourself!"

Movement and then she was there, a young Breton with short dark blonde hair, one eye blind and sightless but still pretty for all that. She was dressed in studded armour, sword at her side, and Cicero had a feeling she probably knew magic too. She was smiling at him, and Cicero didn't know if he liked that or not. That was the smile of a born predator and Cicero wasn't sure he liked being prey. He guessed it all depended what sort of hunt she had in mind.

"Hungry?" she purred, nodding at Gabriella's corpse. "Don't let me stop you. I will not shun you for what you are. It's all right. You've found a friend who... understands you."

Cicero just bet she did.

"Do you," he said, tilting his head and starting to smile craftily back at her. "Do you truly know what I am?"

She just smiled, coming to kneel on the other side of Gabriella's body. "You're a true-born child of darkness," she whispered. "Oh, so was she, she reeked of death too. But she was a mystic, meditating on death without really understanding what it means. Of someone, a friend, a sibling maybe, living and breathing and warm... and then not. Hacked to pieces in front of you? Or maybe you just found the body. Cold and lifeless and you were there for hours, perhaps days, until they found you and she wouldn't move or react and you were alone and so hungry..."

"I didn't eat Mama!" Cicero wailed, flashing back to the Imperial City, barely thirteen, picking his way across a neighbourhood in ruins, the battle over but the Thalmor still ravaging the place anyway, hunting for his mother and when he finally found her... He couldn't remember. Couldn't remember any of it, only the numb horror of her being cold and unmoving, gone, gone forever and his childhood was over and nothing had ever really been all right since. _Mama..._

"It's all right," the woman said softly, eyes surprisingly gentle considering she was a murdering cannibal deviant. "It doesn't matter. She was dead, and she always fed you in life, didn't she? Why not in death too? She wouldn't have wanted her boy to go hungry."

Cicero shook his head, tears in his eyes. He couldn't remember... but for all he knew, he might have done.

"Cicero never did," he whispered. "Cicero is a good boy!"

"Yeah, you sure are," the Breton said, patting his arm with a smile. "Well, maybe not her. Maybe you didn't actually take a nibble. But I bet you were tempted. It's OK. You don't have to hide it any more. I know what you are, Cicero. You're a hunter. Like me."

Cicero did look up then, little growl coming from his throat.

"Cicero is nothing like you!" he hissed, and the woman just kept on smiling.

"You just stabbed a woman in front of me, and you say we're not alike?" she laughed. "Sure you don't want a nibble of this one? Food's going cold."

"Very sure," Cicero said through gritted teeth, looking the other way as she shrugged and began stripping the corpse, taking the robes and Elven dagger for herself. Then came the sound of chewing and Cicero definitely didn't want to look at that, certainly found nothing arousing about this strange woman feeding on the flesh of his former Dark Sister, that was not an erection in his underwear, certainly not, oh Sithis, he was doomed.

Magic flashed behind him, then the sound of the woman ordering the corpse into a coffin, and she was a necromancer too, that was just marvellous. The coffin lid slammed shut, and then there was Destruction magic, first ice then fire.

"There's a broom up by the shrine, could you bring it for me please?"

And now he was doing her fetching and carrying – Sithis, this was too much, he should treat the designing little hussy like he had Gabriella, silence the sole witness... except he couldn't bring himself to do it. He passed her the broom, amazed to see the blood on the floor reduced to red dust.

"Freeze-drying," she explained. "Old Forsworn method of getting blood off stone, we – they – perfected it when they took Markarth. First you freeze it solid, then you burn it, then you sweep it up. Thanks, honey." She swept the red dust into a corner and handed the broom back with a smile.

"My name's Eola. And yeah, I used to be a Forsworn, it's where I got my training. Grew up on a camp, both my parents were committed to the cause. Me, I had two sisters die, saw it happen to one with my own eyes. When I came of age, I had other ideas and ran away. Never looked back." Something in her eyes told a different story though, and despite the levity in her voice, Cicero realised that when she'd talked of being cold, hungry and alone, clutching at a loved one's corpse after they'd been killed, she'd spoken from memory, and that she'd looked back more than a few times on the Forsworn family she'd left behind. Cicero felt his heart go out to her and he knew then he truly was doomed. Everything about this Eola woman was wrong... but he still wanted to cuddle her better. And possibly then kill someone with her, butcher the corpse for her and then bend her over a hard surface and... oh Sithis, this was ridiculous. He was better than this, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

Apparently not because he'd put the broom back and gone back over to her.

"You have not been here long, have you," he said gently. "You had a home, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Eola sighed. "Nice little place just outside Markarth called Reachcliff Cave. Just an old Dragon Cult ruin, not even a big one, one of the few not colonised by the Forsworn. But it was home and it was mine. Until the dragons came back and the Draugr decided it was time to start serving them again. I had to run for my life."

Just outside Markarth... near Karthspire perhaps? With Elisif safely on her way home and Gabriella dead, Cicero had a little time to spare. Perhaps he could help. Perhaps he could be of assistance to the pretty murderer, stab some Draugr for her. He had his new bow now, and Elisif had given him her ebony axe earlier, finding it a bit heavy to carry now she had two swords. Yes, yes he could certainly help. And if the pretty flesh-eating necromancer proved grateful and wished to... reward him... well, Cicero wouldn't say no to that either.

* * *

The Draugr had proved easy prey in the end. Even the Deathlord in the final chamber had fallen to Cicero's axe and arrows and Eola's magic. None of them had ever even seen Cicero coming. He was feeling very pleased with himself, and Eola had looked nothing short of admiring. Then she'd given him gold and told him to go find a main course to reconsecrate the Shrine of Namira with. Well of course she was a Daedra-worshipper, Cicero hadn't even been surprised by that point. About the only thing about her that could actually have shocked him by then was finding out she was an untouched virgin. Which struck him as vanishingly unlikely, to put it mildly.

So he'd done as asked and lured that priest of Arkay back, giggling all the way, and really it was amazing what a tale of a cave full of undead needing Arkay's blessings and a bag of gold would do.

There they'd been, he and Eola standing across each other with Namira's altar in between them and a sleeping priest of Arkay on top of it.

Carve, she'd told him. Cicero had never flinched from a good stabbing in his life. So he'd carved, squealed at the blood spatter and then licked the blood from his fingers while she'd stared hungrily at him.

"Ladies first," he'd murmured. She'd laughed and told him no, guests first. If most of the blood in his body hadn't been flowing straight to his cock he might have said no... but as it was, his big brain wasn't really thinking properly, it had been over a decade since anyone had looked at poor Cicero like that, and so he'd carved again and swallowed the meat down.

And then Namira had spoken and Cicero's world had imploded. He'd just stood there staring as Lady Namira herself had told him he'd pleased her, that he was now Keeper of her Ring, and to wallow in his wretchedness as her newest champion. He'd just nodded, tears rolling down his face and then she'd been gone... but her ring remained on his finger.

"She spoke to me," Cicero whispered, staring vacantly into space.

"Yes," Eola said softly, coming to stand before him, stroking his face, staring in awe. "You're everything I hoped you'd be... and more."

"She spoke to me," Cicero whispered again. "Twelve years of tending to Mother and _nothing_ and I bring Namira one victim and... and Cicero gets to hear her voice...! Named Champion... Keeper..."

"I know!" Eola breathed, still smiling at him. "To be given that honour... I'm so proud of you."

Cicero nodded, biting his lip and then he was sobbing, howling his heart out on Eola's shoulder, clinging on to her as grief for twelve wasted years as the Night Mother's Keeper, resentment at said Night Mother for never repaying him with her voice, not ever, not once, washed over him, tearing him apart, making him cry with the sheer emotion. And then the love, the hope, the realisation he'd been claimed by another... the realisation he was free, thanks to the woman before him.

"All right, champion," Eola whispered, rubbing his back. "You're all right. It's a little overwhelming, I know. Oh honey, I've got you, it's all right." She raised her voice to the rest of the coven, two of whom Cicero recognised from Markarth market and stables. "Right folks, our champion is clearly touched beyond words, so he and I are going out for a little privacy. Carry on without us and drink to Namira's glory. Tonight we have been blessed, brothers and sisters!"

The coven cheered and raised glasses, all praising Cicero's name. Cicero smiled tearfully back and raised the ring so they could all see it, before following Eola out.

* * *

They sat under the stars by the river, Cicero huddled in Eola's arms as she stroked his hair and comforted him, and then he started talking, hesitantly and rambling at first, then telling her everything, all of it, all the Brotherhood's secrets, the Sacrament, the Listener, how he'd been one of their best assassins until the Listener died and the Night Mother came to Cheydinhal. How he'd become Keeper and how the others had left, left him alone in the dark for so long, so very long! Then he'd gone to Falkreath, to the last remaining Sanctuary, but found no Listener, just heretics who'd abandoned the old ways and mocked him as a fool. In the end he'd lost his temper when Astrid had insulted the Night Mother and tried to kill her, and had to run for his life... and then he'd found the Blades and their Dragonborn, Jarl Elisif of Solitude, High Queen to be. And she was pretty and nice and had been kind to him before and saved him again from Arnbjorn, so he'd joined up with her. That and depriving Astrid of the large sum of money she'd receive on Elisif's death struck Cicero as amusing.

"Jarl Elisif," Eola said faintly. "High Queen of Skyrim according to the Empire. Dragonborn. And you joined up with her."

"Yes!" Cicero giggled. "Yes, yes! Sweetling, she... she _eats dragons!_"

"Really?" Now that had grabbed Eola's attention. "I didn't know there was meat to be had on a dragon! How does she get through the scales?"

"It burns," Cicero breathed, eyes wide as he described it to her. "The dragon burns and she takes the fire into herself! It is all bright and shiny and she takes the fire and then the dragon is gone! Dead! A skeleton! So obviously Cicero was very impressed and now he helps her. Keeps her safe. From Stormcloaks and Forsworn and Thalmor... and discreetly stabbing false Dark Brothers and Sisters when they get too close."

"So that's why you were stalking that Dunmer," Eola said, realising just who was skilled enough to sneak up on a Dark Brotherhood assassin – another Dark Brotherhood assassin obviously, one turned renegade after his entire order fell apart.

"Oh yes," Cicero grinned. "Cicero sent Elisif home for her own safety and dealt with the sneaky Dunmer before she could bring word to Astrid. Of course, he didn't expect... this."

"Nor did I," Eola whispered, running fingers through his hair as they cuddled. "The last true Dark Brotherhood assassin, becoming Champion of Namira. Never saw that happening." She wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer. "Whatever happens, you will always have a friend in me and a home here at Reachcliff. You just be sure and tell me the rest of the story, you hear? I want to know how it ends."

Cicero didn't respond to that, not immediately. Then he looked up, smiling in the aurora.

"Why not see for yourself?" he purred. Eola frowned, confused.

"What do you mean?" she asked, thinking she'd just been invited to join the Blades... but surely not, weren't they supposed to be heroic dragonslayers, protectors of the Empire?

"Come with me!" Cicero whispered, grinning. "Delphine and Elisif were talking of recruiting more people, Cicero heard them! Sweet Eola has skills. Sweet Eola is a former Forsworn nightblade. Delphine is worried about the Forsworn after we wiped out one of their camps. Eola could help!"

"You don't know the Forsworn that well if you think they'll listen to me," Eola said bitterly. Not to a runaway who'd been AWOL for the last decade. All the same, it wasn't like she had no leverage to speak of. And killing dragons – that sounded exciting. Hunting down the Dark Brotherhood – even more so.

"Please?" Cicero whispered, looking hopefully up at her. "Come with Cicero! Keep him company! Cicero is tolerated because he is useful, and Elisif likes him... but Brynjolf and Aela wouldn't care if anything happened to him, and Cicero will not be useful forever. Cicero would like to have a friend there..."

Bless the man, but he was adorable. And lonely, Namira he must have been so unhappy. All that time with no one, literally no one... poor boy. Even in the Blades it seemed he was tolerated rather than loved. Maybe Eola could fix that.

"I don't have to worship Talos, do I?" she asked. "I mean, I really don't think that would be a good idea. Not that I'm scared of the Thalmor, but I'm still a Reachwoman at heart. I don't care if Talos is a god or not, but he's not getting prayers off me."

"No, no," Cicero laughed. "Cicero doesn't think it's required, not any more. Not now a new Dragonborn walks." He looked hopefully up at her. "Does this mean sweet Eola will come?"

Eola smiled, tracing a finger down his cheek, making him squeak, and that sounded delightful, Eola could stand to hear that again.

"I'd follow you anywhere, honey," she murmured as she leaned in to kiss him, lips meeting his. Cicero moaned, little keening noise in his throat, and then he was kissing her back, pushing her onto her back, reaching for the buckles on her armour as she reached for the ties on his jester shirt. Then there was no more talking, just touching and kissing and lovemaking and Cicero the Keeper finally found peace.

* * *

A/N: And there we are, Murderer and Murderer, happy together. Next chapter, we find out just where Elisif's been.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Next chapter is up already due to several reasons: it's ready, I really enjoyed it and wanted to share it, and given that at least some of you will have skipped half of last chapter, here's something to compensate. Also you want to know what happened to our heroine, right?

Summary: Cicero returns from his night out with a new lover and new recruit in tow, one with Forsworn ties and a Daedra's power, so Delphine will be pleased, right? Wrong, as it becomes apparent the Dragonborn's in trouble, having wound up in the toughest prison in Skyrim surrounded by Nord-hating Forsworn, with only her wits and her courage to sustain her.

* * *

It was early when Cicero and Eola snuck into Sky Haven Temple, arms round each other and giggling as Cicero explained all about the place, enthusing about the running water in the bathrooms – boiler needed stoking first of course, but hot baths!

"You can stoke my boiler any day, cariad," Eola murmured in his ear and that set Cicero off blushing and giggling again. At least up until Delphine's voice rang out across the main hall.

"Where the _fuck _have you been, Cicero?" Delphine shouted. Cicero went still, gulping nervously and with good cause, because Delphine was advancing, hair down and unbrushed, face pale and worried, clearly furious with Cicero.

"Er... look, Grand Master, Cicero found a new recruit!" Cicero cooed, hoping to distract her. Eola smiled too, but Delphine barely noticed her.

"Never mind new recruits!" Delphine snarled. "All the recruits in the world are no use to me if we've got no Dragonborn!"

Cicero's smile faded, a horrible sense of foreboding settling upon him. No Dragonborn... but surely Elisif had gone straight home as he'd told her. Had something happened to her on the road? Or... no. No, she wasn't that stupid. Surely even the idealistic young High Queen wouldn't have gone off meeting strange young Reachmen in isolated places.

"Oh, but Cicero told Elisif to come home right away while he dealt with the Dark Brotherhood assassin!" Cicero trilled. "Surely she arrived back long ago!"

Delphine advanced on him and grabbed him by the shirt. "She never came back last night," she growled. "I waited up till midnight then fell asleep. Woke up an hour ago and her bed's not been slept in. I was hoping she was with you and you'd spent the night in Markarth."

Cicero shook his head, torn between tears and shrieking rage and howling, hysterical laughter.

"Cicero sent her back... Cicero thought she was here. Cicero did not know... did not know she'd go after that Reachman!"

"What Reachman?" Delphine and Eola said in unison, then both turning to look at each other properly for the first time.

"Who is this?" Delphine asked, frowning. "You're... you're a Reachwoman, aren't you?"

"Am I ever," Eola sighed. "Ex-Forsworn in fact. Don't worry, that was a long time ago. I don't have a problem with Talos-worship as long as I don't have to participate."

"Ex-Forsworn," said Delphine, looking thoughtful. "Hmm. Interesting. Could be useful. All right, I can use all the help I can get, especially right now. I take it Cicero told you everything."

"He did that," said Eola, rubbing Cicero's back, cuddling him now Delphine had let him go. Delphine didn't miss the gesture, raising an eyebrow as she watched him snuggle up next to Eola.

"So that explains where you were all night," Delphine remarked, faint grin on her face. "Well, far be it from me to kick Cicero's girlfriend out. All right, Cicero, tell me about this Reachman. Who was he and what did he want with Elisif? Does he know who she is?"

So Cicero explained, telling Delphine everything, with much wailing about how he'd told her to walk away, leave it alone, no good could come of it, and Delphine listened, both resigned and appalled, while Eola listened in utter shock.

"And so she went to meet him as soon as you left her," Delphine sighed. "Damn it, Cicero, you know she can't resist a sob-story! Although I suppose if there was a known Dark Sister in town, you'd have to deal with that first. So, this murder. You think the perpetrator was a Forsworn agent."

"Positive!" Cicero cried. "He said 'Glory to the Forsworn' and stabbed her! Then the guards killed him."

"Right. And this other man that spoke to you, was he a Forsworn agent too?"

"I don't know," Cicero whispered. "I don't think so. Cicero heard him swear by the Eight..."

"Doesn't mean he's not one," said Eola grimly. "Sithis, Cicero, I think your Dragonborn may be in trouble."

"The Forsworn have an assassination ring going on in Markarth, a secret underground resistance," Delphine said, eyes widening in horror. "Oh Talos, of course they do, they're masters of covert ops and insurgency. Even back before the war, we were taking note of them – they got organised all of a sudden, there was this gradual increase in activity, then while the Empire's back was turned, they took the Reach. It was actually quite brilliantly done – we were cursing their opportunism and suspecting Thalmor involvement but whoever planned all that was a damn genius."

"Madanach," Eola said, looking rather proud of him. "Not just him, he had a high command of course. Keirine, Mireen, Nepos, a few others. But the Forsworn have leaders, Delphine. They have a King."

"They have... he's still alive," said Delphine, surprised. "Didn't they capture him a few years after retaking Markarth from him? I'm amazed he wasn't executed."

"So am I," Eola whispered. "But he's still alive and in Cidhna Mine. I don't know what state he's in, for all I know his health went years ago and his mind followed." Her voice caught on the end of that sentence and she looked away.

"Oh don't you worry, I have a feeling his mind is just fine," Delphine said, starting to pace up and down. "So, there's a Forsworn underground in Markarth freely murdering people, and just by coincidence, that city is home to a maximum security prison containing the King of the Forsworn, who we know is one cunning son of a bitch capable of taking the disunited Reachman hill tribes and turning them into an organised resistance movement in under a decade. He's clearly behind it, but what bothers me is how the Nords are just letting it go on. Thonar Silver-Blood owns that prison, he hates the Forsworn, he's a Stormcloak sympathiser. Why he's not had Madanach killed is a mystery. It's not because he's a decent human being, let me tell you."

"So what do we do?" Eola asked, wide-eyed and fearful. "It sounds like a fucking hornets' nest and it also sounds like your Dragonborn just started poking it."

Delphine looked at Eola, eyes narrowed, appraising her very carefully.

"Our Dragonborn," said Delphine coldly. "You want in to the Blades, you better start thinking of her as our Dragonborn. And here's your chance to prove it. Both of you, get to Markarth now. Find her, find out what's happened to her and get her back here in one piece. I don't care about whatever conspiracy is going on there. I just want the Dragonborn back here. Go. Now. And hurry. From what I know of Madanach, he is not a man who messes about. If she's really been poking into his affairs... Talos, just get out of here." Delphine turned away, hands running through her hair.

"Delphine?" Cicero whispered, reaching after her as she walked away, stricken with guilt. Eola grabbed his arm, leading him away.

"Leave her," said Eola softly. "Elisif's the one in real trouble. Come on, let's go."

Cicero nodded once, following Eola out. Time to track down the Dragonborn.

* * *

Elisif sank to her knees as the prison gate slammed shut, scarcely able to believe this was happening. She was High Queen! A Jarl! They couldn't do this to her. But they had.

She'd met that young Reachman, Eltrys his name was, and after hearing his story, of course she'd offered to help. So she'd searched the room of that woman Margret, found she'd been an Imperial spy investigating the Silver-Bloods, and after that, it hadn't been hard to work out Thonar was using the Forsworn somehow to kill his enemies. So she'd gone to confront him. It hadn't gone well. Two of his servants had killed his wife while she was there, and after that he'd furiously told her everything, how he'd stopped the execution of the Forsworn King Madanach and commuted it to life imprisonment in his mine in return for Madanach using the Forsworn to deal with his enemies. That had been twenty years ago. Now it seemed the so-called King in Rags was tiring of the arrangement.

She'd run back to Eltrys to tell him all this, only to find him dead and Markarth guards standing over him, intending to frame her for the deed. She'd gone along quietly, sure that once she got to see Igmund, she'd be set free immediately and a proper investigation could start.

They'd not taken her to Igmund. They'd taken her straight to the mine, where Thonar had been waiting, smug smile on his face. She'd looked straight into his eyes and her heart had sank as she'd realised he knew exactly who she was and she'd just played right into his hands. He'd had her incarcerated without even pretending there was any justice involved, saying not to worry, he'd send a full report to the Jarl, save him the bother of trying her.

So here she was, alone and unarmed, trapped in a high security prison full of Forsworn. Male Forsworn, who'd likely been here a long time, without a woman in their midst and oh gods, she was a Nord, they hated Nords, what were they going to do to her? Worse, no one knew she was here, Delphine didn't know where she was, Cicero didn't know, oh gods, she'd been such a fool to come alone. She could only hope that when Cicero got back to Sky Haven Temple and realised she wasn't there that they'd come looking. If anyone could organise a jailbreak out of here, it was Delphine. Or alternately she could at least get a message to General Tullius or Falk, get diplomatic negotiations under way to get her out of here. Thonar would have to let her out if Igmund commanded it, and Igmund would have to give the order if General Tullius was breathing down his neck. It would be embarrassing and probably the end of her freedom to roam Skyrim as she pleased, but it was better than being stuck down here. Cicero had been right. She should have left well alone. She wasn't cut out for prison.

Nevertheless, she wasn't completely out of options. She recalled the conversation she'd had with Cicero on the way up here, telling him to make sure he behaved himself and didn't break the law or he'd end up in Cidhna Mine, the toughest prison in Skyrim. Cicero had just giggled and told her he'd survived tough prisons before. The key was to find the most powerful man in the prison and make himself indispensable to him, helping him, bringing him things, dealing with his enemies for him, anything he wanted, anything at all, and Elisif had a horrible feeling Cicero had included sexual favours in that anything.

"With the prison king at your back, no one else will give you any trouble at all," Cicero had assured her. "Do not worry, sweet Maia, it has never failed Cicero yet. Er. Not that he intends to get caught while he is here. Or do anything bad! No, no, that would never do!"

It was a deep irony that Cicero genuinely had stabbed a woman in this city and slipped off scot-free, whereas she'd done nothing wrong and ended up in prison. But she was stuck here until Delphine could arrange a rescue, and that meant surviving in the short-term. So that meant following Cicero's advice... and tracking down the prison king.

* * *

It had taken some doing, but she was in. Trying to get past that Orc guard, who'd looked her up and down, smirking at her but thankfully just wanting a shiv as the price for getting to see Madanach. So she'd got one for him. She'd had to pretend to be a Skooma addict to do it, but she'd managed it. And all the while, the men of the prison had been watching her, always watching her, not doing anything but looking, but still looking and she knew what was on their minds, she could tell. Something told her it was only a matter of time before one made a move and the prospect terrified her.

All the more reason to find Madanach quickly. So here she was, making her way down the tunnel towards his private cell. Didn't reek as badly as the rest of the prison down here, apart from the private toilet facility off to one side, the sole one in the prison, needless to say. Elisif made her way down the tunnel to the room at the end, wondering what she'd find.

What she hadn't expected was a bed, chest, food, wine, and sitting behind a writing desk, an older man, dressed in prison rags but looking distinctly less grimy than the rest of the prisoners. He was busy writing a letter of some kind. More kill orders for his underlings?

He barely spared her a second glance as she walked in. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to him. Ask for help? Shout at him for aiding and abetting death and corruption? Shout at him for real and hope it killed him outright before he could recover and start casting back?

She wasn't sure that last one was a good idea. Even with her fully armed, she had a feeling he'd be tough to beat. One did not get to be King of the Forsworn by being weak.

"Well, well. Look at you," he growled, eyes flicking over to her but not lingering and that was actually a relief. Someone in this mine not staring at her like she was a piece of meat. "Your kinsmen have turned you into a wild animal, caged up and left to go mad. So, my fellow beast, what do you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Justice? Not a lot of that in this city, Nord."

"I noticed," Elisif growled, wondering if she was strong and fast enough to throttle him. Probably not. He was the same height she was, more or less, but stockier and stronger from the look of it. Stronger and not remotely reluctant to kill Nords. She'd have to be careful. "You've got a lot to answer for."

"Do I," Madanach murmured back, anger flashing in his eyes. "And what about you, hmm? You're the one who came here, started meddling, going where you weren't wanted, antagonising the wrong people. Now your foolishness brought you here and you expect me to make it all better for you? You Nords, you want it all on a plate, don't you? You disgust me."

"You're not exactly endearing yourself to me either!" Elisif shot back. "You're the one murdering innocent people on the orders of someone who you should be fighting! At least I'm not a hypocrite!"

The quill slammed down, and as Madanach slowly got out of his chair, glaring at her, Elisif stepped back, realising she'd gone too far.

"Oh gods," she whispered. He was advancing on her, eyes narrowed as his mage armour flared into being. This was it, death coming for her, and now it was actually happening she wasn't greeting it with open arms, she was terrified. But she was still a true Nord and if she died bravely, Sovngarde awaited, right? _Torygg, get some mead ready, I'm coming home..._ Elisif closed her eyes.

"Go on then," she heard herself say. "Send me to Sovngarde, I don't even care."

Silence. Nothing at all, and finally Elisif risked opening her eyes to see Madanach not moving, just frowning at her.

"You know," he said at length, "it's almost like you want me to kill you."

Elisif just shrugged, not sure she really wanted to talk about this with a stranger, especially not the King in Rags.

"Why would you care?" she snapped. "You hate Nords, don't you?"

He didn't answer. He was just staring at her, appraising her very carefully.

"Who are you?" he murmured. "They told me you were some mercenary called Maia, but there's something about you... You're not a mercenary, that's for damn sure."

"Does it matter?" Elisif sighed. "Look, are you going to kill me or not?"

Madanach returned to his seat, crossing his legs and stroking his chin, still that thoughtful look in his eyes.

"Not yet," he said, almost smiling, and definitely intrigued now. Well, she had his attention at least. But how to keep it and persuade him to keep her alive long enough for the eventual rescue?

"What about helping me escape then?" she asked. Well, not like she'd lose anything by asking. He must have ways in and out of this place, surely.

That did get a laugh. "Perhaps," he said. "I'm just trying to work you out. You see, I've had a lot of reports come in of late. Lots of interesting ones over the last few months, and some frankly baffling ones over the last week or so. Some mercenaries destroyed one of our camps the other day, but not ordinary mercenaries, no. A werewolf, a little red-haired daedra in human form, some other warriors, at least one mage, and... a young Nord woman with red hair who killed the dragon that had been menacing the camp for the last week and allegedly took its very soul." He was staring straight at her, eyes cold and Elisif began to realise that if she'd been in trouble before, she was pretty much doomed by this point.

"You know, that camp was home to my daughter and her mother," he said, still sounding oddly calm for someone whose people she'd helped kill. "You're very fortunate my daughter got out before the carnage started, but as it is, she lost her mother. My little girl is heartbroken, Nord."

"I'm sorry," Elisif whispered, wondering if it was worth telling him she'd hardly killed any Forsworn, it had been the others... but she was queen and they'd been there because of her. Leaders took responsibility for this sort of thing, right? "We just needed access to the ruins in the Karthspire, we'd have negotiated... but they attacked first."

Madanach didn't answer, but he nodded once and Elisif felt herself relax a little. He wasn't going to kill her quite yet, it appeared.

"Why did you need access to the ruins," he said, still sounding eerily calm. "They've been abandoned for decades if not more. I was fifteen when I came to Karthspire and joined the Forsworn, and that was nearly forty five years ago now. The place was sealed off tight and the elders said the place had been that way ever since they could remember too. Now you and your people manage to just turn up and get in when we never managed it in all those years?" He shook his head, laughing to himself. "You know, the Akaviri have been gone for years, and their successors, the Blades, they've been on the run since the war ended. I heard the Thalmor hunted them all down."

"You heard wrong," Elisif said before she could stop herself. Madanach just smirked, triumphant at having got something out of her.

"So. You're a Blades cell. Now that is interesting. You know, the old tales talk of the Akaviri being friends and allies when they first came to the Reach. That when the Cyrodiils finally conquered the land, they intervened and stopped it being an all-out bloodbath. They treated us fairly, unlike others I could name. Then the First Empire fell, and the Akaviri remained, living in peace with us. It was only when Tiber Septim came that they followed his lead and let him abuse us and enslave us. And so we turned on them too. It's said that's why they sealed their temple up and fled the Reach. You a Talos-worshipper, girl?"

"No!" Elisif protested. Not that she had anything against Talos, but Talos worship was illegal and had been all her life. She'd only ever known eight Divines.

"So why'd you join the Blades? And why are you reclaiming that temple?" Madanach returned, eyes never leaving hers. No, definitely not giving her the creepy male gaze the other prisoners had, but this wasn't exactly preferable. At least she'd known what the others had wanted. She had no idea what Madanach was after. But she might as well tell him, keep him talking.

"I'm not a Blade," she told him. "But as for why we need the Temple, we were hoping it would have clues on how to fight dragons."

"You don't seem to need the lost knowledge of the ancients to do that, girl," Madanach remarked, and he did grin at that. "From what I heard, you managed to kill one just fine on your own."

"That was one dragon!" Elisif protested. "There's lots of them, and if I don't stop them, their leader will destroy the world and the afterlife too! I need to bring down Alduin, that's the first of them, but he's no ordinary dragon and I don't know how. I was hoping the temple would have answers."

"And did it?" Madanach asked, still that strange curious smile on his face. Elisif shook her head.

"Not exactly," she sighed. "But it's a secure base and it did give us some leads. Which I can't follow up because I'm _stuck in here!_" She glared at him, remembering how she'd ended up here in the first place. "The world is going to end and it'll be all your fault!"

The inconsiderate son of a bitch had the nerve to laugh.

"I shall have it engraved on my tombstone," he promised. "Madanach ap Caradach, Lord of the Reach, Scourge of the Nords, Destroyer of Worlds. How does that sound? Suitably impressive?"

Sending him to that tomb earlier than he'd planned was starting to seem like less and less of a bad idea, but Elisif had a feeling it wouldn't end well for her either, and she needed to fight Alduin before she could finally die and let the world sort itself out.

"Get me out of this bloody prison," she hissed. "Get me out of here and... and..."

"And you'll what?" he retorted, one elbow resting on his desk, and now he just looked bored. "Grant me a full pardon? Send Igmund packing and get me my land back? Have Thonar Silver-Blood executed for crimes against humanity?"

"I... er..." Elisif began. Technically, perhaps she could do all that, but Igmund was one of her supporters, she couldn't just hand his Hold over to the Forsworn. Thonar on the other hand, she'd be quite happy to ram a sword through his chest. True, it would also be illegal... but didn't she have a friend who specialised in that sort of thing? "All right. Get me out of here and I'll get Thonar killed."

"Promises, promises," Madanach said, shaking his head. "You'll forgive me if I don't trust you quite yet. Do you even know why we're fighting?"

Not a question she'd expected. "You want to rule the Reach," she said, confused. Madanach went still, before slowly shaking his head.

"Actually no, I just don't trust anyone else to do a good job of it," Madanach sighed. "And certainly not the Nords – you may think I'm corrupt and a murderer, and maybe you're right, but you think this is new? I'm nearly sixty, and this city was no different fifty years ago when I was a boy growing up in the Warrens. Wasn't new then either. You want to know who we are, what we're really about? Go and talk to Braig, he's one of the prisoners here. Apart from me, he's been here the longest. Tell him I sent you, ask him how he ended up here. When you've done that, come back here. Perhaps then I might be able to help." Without another word, he turned back to his work, ignoring her.

"That – that's it?" Elisif asked. "You just want me to go talk to one of the other prisoners?"

"Did I stutter?" Madanach growled, not even looking up. Elisif flinched. While she didn't think he was going to kill her now, he was still rather intimidating, to put it mildly. But if all he wanted was for her to go and talk to another prisoner, well she could do that. So off she went to go find this Braig character.

What she didn't see as soon as she'd left the room was Madanach lower his quill, move noiselessly out of his chair, watch her walk away, taking a few moments to engage in all the eyeing up he'd been repressing throughout their conversation, before trailing in her wake, clinging to the shadows in a way even Cicero would have admired, casting a Muffle spell to make things easier. The King in Rags was no stranger to stealth or covert operations, and he was already hatching plans. He just needed proof that his suspicions were correct.

* * *

Braig turned out to be a fifty-something balding Breton, painted with the usual Forsworn war-paint, hacking away at the rock surface and snapping at her when she asked to speak to him. As soon as she mentioned Madanach though, his entire demeanour changed.

"Did he now?" Braig said thoughtfully, lowering his pick and sitting down, making himself comfortable. "Well all right then, if he wants you to hear it, I'll tell you. But let's hear yours first. When was the first time you felt chains on your wrists?"

First time? This was the first time. Elisif could cry. She shouldn't be here, she wasn't a criminal, she didn't belong here! But her story... she could tell him that.

"Never," Elisif whispered. "I grew up in Wayrest, out in High Rock. It was just me and my father. He was about your age when I was born, he'd married a much younger woman. But she'd died in childbirth, leaving him with me. I don't think he ever got over it, but he loved me regardless. We weren't exactly rich, but we weren't poor either. Then when I was about nineteen, he started to get sick. Really sick. So he sold everything we had and took us on a boat to Skyrim. To Solitude. He wanted to look upon his homeland again before he died. So we went there, rented a house and lived there, and every day I'd take him to the docks if it wasn't raining and he wasn't too ill so he could see the Throat of the World in the distance. It made him happy, and I was glad of it. Then there was a party at the Bards' College for the Burning of King Olaf Festival. I went along on my own and then I met this young man there. He was so handsome and charming and had a throng of young men and women around him but the moment he laid eyes on me, he barely left my side. Kept seeking me out, talking to me, asking me to look after his drink for me so he had an excuse to come back. I was flattered and pleased and he seemed so nice. A few days later he called on the house and spent some time with my father, and then he started visiting regularly. Then he introduced me to his father and that was... intimidating. And then one day he turned up with an Amulet of Mara and asked me to marry him. So I did. And we were happy. Really happy. We were married for three years, and despite my father dying and then his father at the end of last year, we didn't care because we still had each other. And then Ulfric Stormcloak came to Solitude and murdered my husband. Just Shouted him to the floor and ran him through before he could defend himself. Right there in front of me, in front of everyone!" Elisif felt the tears started to come, and she wiped her eyes, sniffing as she tried to blink them away.

"He was twenty five years old," she whispered. "He wasn't a seasoned warrior, he'd had some training but he was just a young man and he couldn't Shout like Ulfric could. And Ulfric just walked up to him and killed him. Not because he'd done anything wrong even, but to make a point. He did it because he could. And he broke my heart."

Elisif had been sitting down anyway and that was probably a good thing because it meant she didn't injure herself due to her legs giving way as she began to cry in earnest.

"I shouldn't even be here!" she sobbed. "I should be in Solitude right now, in our house there, with my husband alive, looking forward to – I was pregnant, did you know that? We'd just found out, I'd told him that morning, and we were so happy. We'd wanted children more than anything. Then he died and... and I lost the baby and nothing's been right ever since. I should be in Solitude, thinking of names and picking out decorations for the nursery... and instead here I am, travelling Skyrim, trying to learn to be a warrior so I can challenge Ulfric and get revenge on him. Instead I walk right into Thonar Silver-Blood's hands and he slung me in here to get me out of the way. Even Madanach got a trial, didn't he?" Elisif wiped her eyes and looked up at Braig, wondering how he was taking all this. It had gone strangely quiet out there, the mine silent, no one hacking at rock faces, no one talking or anything. Just an old Forsworn warrior staring back at her and looking guilty for even asking.

"Well, you wanted my story," Elisif sighed. "It's a sad one, I know."

"I – yeah," said Braig faintly, sounding a bit helpless and for some reason he was looking over her shoulder, eyes pleading with someone behind her. "I'm really very sorry to hear it, young lady, and believe me, I do know how it feels. I lost my little girl too. She was barely four years old. Nord soldiers killed her and threw me in here. I'll spare you the details. Er... are you all right?"

Elisif shook her head, feeling her heart breaking all over again, and honestly she was glad Braig hadn't told her any more than that, because that was awful, killing a four year old because of what her father might have done? And her own country's soldiers too, her kinsmen. Nords should know better. Nords were supposed to be honourable warriors, fighting evil and protecting the weak, not murdering children. Were they Igmund's men or Ulfric's, she wondered, and then decided it didn't matter. It wouldn't bring Braig's little girl back, or anyone else. All this in her own country, an entire Hold with its own war going on, and maybe the Forsworn were animals, maybe they were murderers... but the Nords they'd been fighting were no better. Worse in some ways. She'd wanted to see what Skyrim was like for people that weren't Jarls. She was certainly finding out and she didn't like what she saw.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "For everything my kinsmen did to you. You deserved better. I'll try and get justice for you, I swear."

"Don't waste your pity on me, girl," Braig growled, not looking at her now. "I'm just an old Forsworn who wishes he'd killed more of Ulfric's men when he had the chance. Never mind justice for me. Just give Ulfric a few swings of the axe from me when you see him."

Elisif nodded tearfully. She could certainly do that – if she ever got out of here. She got up to find Madanach, turned round... and realised he'd been there the whole time. There were five of them, that yellow-eyed prisoner Uraccen, the young one called Odvan, Duach who'd given her the Skooma, Borkul at the back towering over the others, and at the front, Madanach kneeling, staring at the ground, and then he looked up.

The one thing she'd never have expected to see in the Forsworn King's eyes when looking at the Nord Queen was understanding, sympathy and pain of his own.

"How much of that did you hear?" she gasped, mortified.

"Enough," was the response as he got to his feet, holding out a hand to her. "I wanted you to know what it was like for us, turns out you already do. Braig, thank you, I know you don't like talking about it, but this was important, trust me."

"Anything for the cause, sir," Braig said deferentially, picking up his axe and staring at the rock face. Madanach nodded at the others, all of whom were also looking sympathetic, even Borkul, and motioned for them to get back to work. They dispersed quickly enough, leaving her with the King in Rags.

"You were listening in," she whispered. "You son of a bitch."

He had the nerve to smile. "Braig won't talk about his story unless it's on my orders, and he always asks for the other person's first. I wanted to know who you were, really. Now I do... and now I think we can help each other. Come with me, let's talk."

_He knows who I am._ Of course he did, how many other people's husbands had Ulfric walked into Solitude recently and murdered? The others might not know, being stuck down here, but Madanach must have had reports from his people on the outside. By this stage she wasn't even frightened... just numb. Whatever he did to her, it couldn't hurt worse than seeing Torygg dead had. She just nodded and went over to him, not even objecting as his hand came to rest on her upper back and he led her out.

No one even looked at her as they went out, apart from that Nord Grisvar, but he just looked confused – or at least he did until Madanach glared at him then he very quickly looked away. All rather different to how it had initially been. No staring, no ogling, nothing. Cicero had been right. Get the prison king on your side, no one hassled you. Even Borkul nodded respectfully as Madanach led her back to his room.

He settled her down on the bed, leaving her there before producing a tankard that actually looked clean-ish, and filling it with wine. Kneeling by her side, he passed it over, still that sympathy in his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked as she sipped at the wine. It was cheap Alto wine but right then Elisif couldn't have cared less. It helped.

"How in Kyne's holy name am I supposed to be all right after all that," Elisif whispered. "I lost my husband and my baby and oh gods, I never told anyone about the baby before."

He was sitting next to her on the bed, rubbing her upper back but otherwise sitting about six inches away from her, no part of him touching her and that was a surprise but a nice one.

"It gets easier to bear," she heard him say quietly, sounding like he knew first-hand and Elisif remembered hearing Torygg speaking of Ulfric, telling Elisif what a great man the Jarl of Windhelm was, how he'd smashed the savages of the Reach, torn their resistance movement apart, overthrown the treacherous usurper who'd led them, heroically reclaimed the Reach for Skyrim, and Elisif had lapped it all up unquestioningly. Now here she was hearing it all from the other side, and she was questioning everything she'd ever been taught. Here she was, trapped in a prison with said murdering usurper, and here he was, comforting her.

"What was your story?" she said, looking at him properly. "I mean, apart from being king and then getting dethroned – Torygg told me that one." She didn't mention Torygg gleefully recounting about how Ulfric had shown those murdering witchmen a thing or two, or how she'd snuggled up with him and thrilled to the details. It didn't seem right to enjoy the victory when you knew innocent children had died, and not by the hands of the so-called witchmen either.

Silence, and he'd let her go, hands in his lap, just looking at the ground. He picked the wine bottle up and took a swig straight from it.

"I had a daughter too, four of them once," he said softly. "Eldest was called Eithne, she'd be thirty four, thirty five maybe, if she'd lived. Married maybe, out there leading the fight perhaps, I might have grandchildren, you know. I'd have loved grandchildren."

Elisif hadn't even realised what she was doing before she'd taken his hand, squeezing it.

"Could still happen?" she said hopefully. "You've still got one daughter at least!"

Madanach smiled bitterly, still not looking at her.

"Eithne was the reason I took over the tribes, turned them into the Forsworn, started all this. I wanted a better world for her than the one she'd been born into. She was my heir, my princess. And then when she was fourteen, the Nords found the camp we were living on – just me and her, the other three were at Karthspire with their mother. Ulfric was with them, he was Jarl himself by then, but he left Windhelm when he heard they were storming my camp. Apparently he hated unfinished business. It was a bloody fight, but I could have carried the day – it was me, Ulfric, Thongvor and Thonar, and Igmund left standing. Four against one, but I could have won. At least until my daughter, who I'd told to hide and stay out of sight, decided to go for Ulfric. He just shouted her down with that voice magic of his and ran her through. I surrendered after that. Dishonourable? Perhaps. Should I have fought and avenged her, even if it meant my own death? Maybe. But she was my little girl, my reason for fighting. Didn't seem a lot of point going on without her."

Elisif remembered the days after Torygg's death, when she'd just stayed in bed, lying there as the miscarriage took her, sobbing her heart out or just staring into space, barely aware of anything. She'd got better since, got better at going through the motions anyway, and since the whole Dragonborn thing, she'd had things to take her mind off it. What had he had? Just four walls of his prison cell and a rebellion to lead.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her turn to comfort him now, and of all the people she thought she might share a grief with, all the people who might understand, she'd never expected it to be the leader of the Forsworn.

He squeezed her hand back and took another swig of the wine.

"One day, we will have our freedom," he said quietly. "One day, I will see them pay, the bastards who killed my family, threw me in here, ravaged my land... Thonar, Thongvor, Ulfric, I'll see the Void take them all. All things must die."

She didn't know Thongvor at all, but as far as Thonar and Ulfric went, she was quite happy to see them bludgeoned.

"I'll give Ulfric a stab from you," she promised. "Thonar too. If you get me out of here."

Madanach finally looked up, actually smiling, sly grin that might have unnerved her once but now actually gave her hope.

"Yes, you and I have business to discuss, don't we. Jarl Elisif, known as the Fair, and recently Dragonborn. The Fair suits you. I'm not sure about the dragon, not unless you've got scales somewhere."

Elisif took her hand from his, and shoved him in the side, but in all honesty, she didn't feel terribly offended and nor was he, just laughing and lounging back against the headboard.

"I don't have scales! Or a tail, before you ask. I just... can take a dragon's soul when it dies. Stop it coming back."

"Like you did at Karthspire," Madanach said, nodding in understanding. "That's how I knew it was you, by the way, I'd been wondering why the Empire's choice for Queen of the Nords could go from helpless figurehead to being idolised just by adopting a warrior name like Dragonborn. So it does actually mean something. A useful talent to have now they've come back."

"I could wish they'd picked someone else," Elisif sighed. "But they chose me so I guess I have to do this."

"And what do you do with the souls once you have them?" Madanach asked, actually looking fascinated. "Can you enchant things with them?"

"I've... never tried," said Elisif, thinking of the two inside her right now and starting to wonder if she could actually enchant things with them. An interesting possibility, but she really needed to hang on to them in case she found another Word Wall. "I use them to learn how to Shout – once I've learnt a Word of Power, I can use the soul to learn how to use it."

"Voice magic," Madanach breathed. "You can Shout. Like Ulfric."

"_Better_ than Ulfric," Elisif said proudly. "It took him years to learn the few he does know. Me, I can learn words in seconds, I just need to see them written down. And then I just use a dragon soul and I can shout it. Of course, I have to kill the dragon first but even that's getting easier, and now I've got the Blades with me, I've got help! That's who they are, they're the guards of the Dragonborn, they're an order of dragonslayers. They served Reman Cyrodiil, but if they'd already made arrangements with you, that was why they stopped his Empire wiping you out. But when Talos arrived, a full Dragonborn again... if the arrangement had weakened or broken down, they'd have had to obey him."

Madanach nodded, eyes flashing angrily again. "I see. And the current full-blooded Dragonborn, where does she stand on the Reach?"

A difficult one to answer. On the one hand, the Forsworn had killed an awful lot of people. But on the other, they'd been effectively Thonar's puppets for years, their king trapped in a daedra's bargain and too grief-stricken to care about anything else... or at least he had been. The man in front of her didn't look heartbroken at all, in fact he seemed cheerful. Pleased. A certain vibrant energy radiating out of him.

"Torygg hated you all," she said quietly. "Thought you were all murderers. Animals. Traitors. But he also admired Ulfric and look where that got him." Elisif considered her opinion on the Forsworn. Murderers, perhaps, so they'd have to stop that. Traitors? Well, insurrectionists yes, but given what currently passed for the government of the Reach, she found herself no longer blaming them. And as for animals... when you started treating any sentient being as less than a person, that was usually when the trouble started.

"Igmund's not that good a Jarl, is he?" she sighed. "Especially not with all this going on under his nose. And as for Thonar Silver-Blood, I'd happily kill him myself for slinging me in here without even a trial. Whereas you've actually been nice to me and you in no way had to be." She turned to face him. "You know, you'd make a better Jarl than Igmund. But no more murdering innocent people, or massacring Nords, understand? You have to behave yourselves. I can't get you your land back or grant you a pardon if you're not actually sorry and willing to change your ways."

Madanach was grinning, and there was very little evidence of remorse there at all, but he did nod in agreement.

"Oh, don't worry, my little deal with Thonar is drawing to a close. And if the High Queen of Skyrim is considering giving us our land back, well, I can agree a little amnesty for a while. May I take it your Blades friends won't be destroying any more of our camps?"

"I'll talk to them," Elisif promised. "It really was just the Temple we wanted, now we have that, we're good."

"I hope so," Madanach said. He was still watching her, something clearly still bothering him.

"What is it?" Elisif sighed. "What else do you want?"

"I have some more questions, if I may," Madanach said. Elisif nodded for him to go and ask them. "If you're so against murdering the innocent, why are you working with the Dark Brotherhood? Don't tell me you don't have one of them with you, I have eyewitness accounts of a little red-haired daedra called Cicero swearing he'd send us to the Void in the name of Sithis. Well, he's not one of us, and the only other organisation who believe in Sithis and the Void are the Brotherhood. Going to get them to stop murdering innocents too?"

"If I have to," said Elisif, remembering Veezara lying dead on the floor of her bedroom and Arnbjorn bleeding out on the road through Falkreath. "They tried to kill me once. They'll try again, but I don't intend to let them win."

A sharp intake of breath from Madanach, and she'd never thought she'd see fear in his eyes, but he looked genuinely worried.

"They have a contract out on you," he gasped. "Sithis, Elisif..."

And this was what Elisif had feared, the Dark Brotherhood and Forsworn being in league.

"You have an agreement with them," she said, prepared to run if she had to – but where, that was the trouble. So it was she could have cried when Madanach shook his head.

"We used to. Many years ago when they first got started. We trained their assassins, they helped us out. Sithis is one of our gods, they worship Sithis too." Then his eyes hardened. "But we drifted apart years ago. Sacrament doesn't even work any more. There's no one in the Forsworn remembers the old days personally, and I think they've abandoned us. So you're planning to take them on, are you? Presumably this Cicero's a renegade member."

"Yes, although he doesn't see it that way," Elisif explained. "The Dark Brotherhood's down to one group, according to him. They lost their Cyrodiil Sanctuaries after the war, there's just the Skyrim one and it no longer follows their leader, the Night Mother. Cicero still does, but he's the only one. There was a fight over it and he had to flee the Sanctuary. We saved him and now he's working for us. He thinks they're liars and heretics, not the real Brotherhood any more, so he's willing to help me fight them. He's... a bit odd, all right, very odd, but he can be really nice and he's already taken care of one of them for me!"

Madanach's worry had eased, and now he just looked sad. "So the Brotherhood have abandoned their Matriarch. No wonder the Sacrament stopped working." He did smile then, grinning at Elisif in the candlelight. "In that case, I'd say they've got it coming. All right, next question. How exactly did you end up here anyway? My opinion of the Nords' intelligence has never been high, but even they aren't stupid enough to throw their own queen into prison, right? Surely the Jarl recognised you, he was up in Solitude at that Moot thing they held after the old High King died."

"I never even got to see Igmund," Elisif sighed. "Thonar has the guards in his pay, or some of them. They framed me for Eltrys' murder and Thonar had them throw me straight in here. I think he knew who I was and wanted me out of Ulfric's way. I don't know if he's either hoping you'll kill me, or if he's holding me here until Ulfric sends men to collect me, hoping you'll have treated me so awfully I'll do anything Ulfric wants if it means I get rescued."

Laughter from Madanach as he refilled her tankard and drank more of the wine himself. "And that's Thonar all over, judging everyone else by his standards. Honestly, I have daughters, I don't go around raping and abusing innocent young women, or even the guilty ones for that matter." His face turned sombre, shadows in his eyes. "So if Thonar knows who you are and is in contact with Ulfric still, he's probably sent word to him already. If Ulfric wants you alive, and there's a good chance he might if he thinks he can use you, he'll be sending people for you soon. We don't have a lot of time."

No, they really didn't, and Elisif was a sitting duck here if Ulfric did decide to collect her.

"You wouldn't let them take me," she whispered. She wasn't sure quite how far she could trust Madanach but he'd not want to let an asset like her fall into Ulfric's hands, right?

"Never," Madanach growled and Elisif felt a little nervous. She'd hate to have that anger turned on her – Madanach was a frightening man when he was angry. But it passed as soon as it had arrived.

"Don't worry," he said gently. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen. I just have one last question. Are you serious about learning to be a better warrior so you can kill Ulfric and avenge your husband?"

"Very," Elisif said, remembering the blood on the Blue Palace's tiles and the screaming, gods she hadn't even sounded human. "He broke my heart, destroyed my family. He pays."

Madanach didn't seem remotely worried by her anger, in fact he looked delighted.

"A woman after my own heart," he laughed. "Tell me, have you given any thought to what happens after? You'll need back-up to get you in there and then out again without his guards killing you, and then that city's going to need a new Jarl. Unless you were planning to run it yourself."

Truth be told, Elisif hadn't really thought about it – that was all General Tullius' area.

"I'm assuming I'll have the Legion at my back," Elisif said, shrugging. "But if I don't... well, I'll go in alone if I have to. I just want him dead. I don't care about anything else, I never even wanted to be queen, that was all Falk and Tullius' idea. If I don't make it out of there, at least I get to go to Sovngarde. I get to see Torygg again."

Madanach said nothing, lowering the wine bottle to the floor, eyes never leaving hers, face sombre and Elisif could almost swear he looked sad about this, but why would he? He'd known her only a few hours, not like it'd break his heart to lose her or anything.

"That sounds like a colossal waste," he said eventually and Elisif closed her eyes, not even sure why the tears were coming again, but there was just something in his voice, some wistful yearning there, as if he'd actually miss her if she died.

Well, she'd probably miss him too if he died. He wasn't a monster at all, just a man like any other – well, not like any other, he was a smart, charismatic battlemage who led an entire movement after all. But he wasn't a wild animal like Thonar had claimed either and while she didn't know if she could entirely trust him, the fact remained she liked him. Felt safe around him. Comfortable. In other circumstances, she had a feeling they'd be friends.

They still could be.

"Was there anything else you wanted?" Elisif asked, desperately wanting to get off this subject before she starting sobbing again.

"Just one thing. A little favour if you will," said Madanach, still lounging back, hands behind his head, still that odd wistful look in his eyes, accompanied by a faint smile.

"What sort of favour?" Elisif asked. Hadn't she already agreed to talk the Blades round to non-hostility against the Forsworn, get Thonar killed and look into possibly getting them their land back?

"Just this," Madanach said, leaning forward, wincing as he sat upright, Restoration magic flaring as he returned to sitting on the edge of the bed. "That when you decide to launch your suicide by guard attempt in Windhelm, you see me first. Let me know when you're doing it."

"What, you want me to get arrested again?" Elisif asked, before seeing the twinkle in his eyes and realising no, he had no intention of staying in Cidhna Mine any longer than he had to.

"There's a Forsworn camp in the north of the Reach, in the Druadach Valley, just north of Karthwasten, on the southern bank of the Darkfall River," Madanach told her, his voice soft and low but his eyes alive with promise. "It's called Druadach Redoubt and it's going to be my command centre. You want to see me, you'll be quite welcome as long as you don't bring an invading army with you."

"You're breaking out of here," Elisif gasped, hope flaring inside. She was getting out of here, they were all getting out of here!

Madanach nodded. "Yes. We've planning it for months, but recent events have convinced me now's the time to execute it. Want in?"

"Yes!" Elisif cried, ready to cry with relief. "Yes, of course. And I'll be sure to let you know when I'm going to Windhelm as well, so you know to start listening out for the news."

"Yes," Madanach said, still grinning. "Of course I'll want to do that, yes." He got off the bed, patting the back of her hand. "Listen, we can't go just yet. I've got to make some arrangements first, get everything in place. But it shouldn't take too long, not more than a day at the most. In the mean time, you can stay in here with me. I know it's not much but it's better than anywhere else in this prison. There's facilities just down the corridor, food and wine here, and you can have the bed when you get tired. Make yourself at home."

"But won't you need the bed," Elisif asked, feeling the wine starting to go to her head. She was tired, a nap wouldn't hurt, but wouldn't he need to sleep at some point?

"I slept earlier," Madanach told her. "Don't worry about me. You just rest and leave it all to me."

"Thought you weren't going to make it all better for me?" Elisif said as she laid down on the bed, grinning sleepily at him.

Madanach stopped in the doorway of his room, laughing softly and glancing back at her.

"Not just for you," he told her. "But if it makes you happy, I can live with that."

Then he was gone, leaving her alone in a prison cell in the toughest prison in Skyrim, in a bed that wasn't hers, separated from her entire previous life and utterly at the mercy of and dependent on the man known as the Scourge of the Nords. So why she felt safer than she'd done since Torygg died, Elisif had no idea. She just crawled under the furs, closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.

* * *

A/N: And there you go, there's Elisif making friends all over. Next chapter, Cicero and Eola, unaware of all this, start planning their own jailbreak operation... with mixed results.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: And here's where it all gets interesting as everything starts coming together. We've got Madanach point of view chapters as the King in Rags starts plotting, Eola's past coming to light, and Cicero being Cicero.

Notes on the Reach-tongue:

Cariad - beloved

Keteen - compensation, blood money, weregild

Admor - Nord (i.e. someone from Atmora, the Nords' real home, and if they could go back there, the Forsworn would be very pleased about this)

Brenhina - Queen

Gwaneth - sister

Bach - little

Rhan-Brenyeen - Reach-Princess

Brenyeenma - my princess

Summary: The High Queen of Skyrim's fast asleep in Cidhna Mine and the King in Rags can't quite believe his luck. However, before he can start making plans, he first needs to make sure the rest of his family are on side. Meanwhile, Cicero and Eola are in Markarth figuring out a rescue plan of their own, and while Cicero goes to make sure there's a Dragonborn left to rescue, Eola's forced to face her past.

* * *

The message had gone out. Kaie was on her way. Leaving Madanach sitting alone in his room, busying himself with disposing of all his various top secret Forsworn documents. Easy enough when you had the power of fire and frost at your command.

Over in his bed, Jarl Elisif the Dragonborn stirred but did not wake. Good, he'd need to have a rather delicate conversation with his daughter and he didn't want Elisif waking up half way through. Hopefully the wine would keep her unconscious for a while.

Jarl Elisif. Here. In Cidhna Mine. A Nord Jarl, for Anu's sake. Not even on the opposing side in the war, it was one of her own supporters' Holds. Poor girl, to come all the way out here and end up embroiled in this. At least Madanach had made his own choices. It didn't sound like she'd had that option. Poor girl.

Never in his life had Madanach ever thought he'd be feeling sorry for a Nord Jarl. He'd never expected to offer hospitality to one either and here he was doing just that.

He'd definitely not expected to have a grief in common with her, and he'd certainly not expected to find himself liking her. That she was remarkably easy on the eye didn't hurt of course, but he'd also enjoyed her company. She'd made him smile, and that wasn't something that happened often. Which was why the resignation in her voice and the hope as she talked of going to Sovngarde to join her husband had stung like it had. It just seemed so wrong for a sweet young thing like her to end up lying dead in a pool of her own blood. The first Nord he'd actually enjoyed spending time with, and she was dead set on throwing her life away? Not on Madanach's watch.

Besides, if she was dead, she couldn't grant him that full and unconditional pardon, or make him Reach-King, or indeed skewer Thonar for him. And once all the treaties were signed, clearly it would be in everyone's interests for Skyrim and the Reach to be ruled by two people who got on. Who understood each other. Who could talk business and then relax afterwards with a nice glass of wine or Reach jenever and just enjoy each other's company over dinner. Obviously. Which meant Elisif couldn't die. Elisif would just have to keep on living. Not like Sovngarde was going anywhere after all.

Rattling of the gate in the tunnel, which meant Kaie was here. Retrieving his key, Madanach went to let her in.

"Da! I got your note!" she gasped as he unlocked the gate to the secret escape tunnel and let her in to the mine. "Is it really happening tonight?"

"Depends, what time is it out there?" Madanach asked, having long since lost track of that sort of thing.

"About two in the morning," Kaie replied. "Are we going now? I brought all the gear, it's waiting by the door."

"Not yet," said Madanach softly, although the thought of freedom being so close was almost too much to bear. _Patience, Madanach._ He could hardly just abandon the High Queen, could he now? "Come on, come with me. There's something I need to show you. And keep your voice down."

Kaie followed, noiseless in her enchanted boots, and as she followed him into his room, she gasped to see Elisif sleeping peacefully in his bed.

"Who's that-?" Kaie began until Madanach hushed her.

"Not so loud! You'll wake her!" he whispered. Elisif waking up to find Kaie here would never do. He wasn't quite ready for them to meet properly yet.

"Who is she?" Kaie whispered back, looking faintly appalled. "Da, have you got a girlfriend?"

"What – no! It's nothing like that!" Madanach insisted. Honestly, him and a Nord High Queen, the very thought was ridiculous. Not that he'd exactly object if Elisif hauled him into bed, but the prospect was so unlikely it was best not entertained at all. "It's just this is the only proper bed in the prison, and I can hardly have our guest sleep on the floor. You'll never guess who the Nords have locked up in here, m'inyeen."

"Why, who have they-?" Kaie drew closer, saw red hair, Nord features and recalled descriptions of the Karthspire attackers and promptly drew her axe, hissing.

"She's the dragonslayer," Kaie growled. "The one whose people attacked Karthspire. Murdering bitch, I'll – Da, let me go!"

Madanach had tackled her, grabbing her round the waist with arms pinned to her side, and while Kaie was strong, she wasn't quite strong enough to break her father's grip, not without injuring him in the process.

"Yes, I know she did," Madanach said through gritted teeth. "And we're owed our keteen for that, I know, Kaie, I know. But don't kill her. Hear me out. Please."

"She killed Ma," Kaie whispered, but she'd stopped struggling. Madanach was still her father and more than that – he was also still her king.

"I know, cariad, I know," Madanach murmured, loosening his grip and turning the pinioning into an embrace, turning her to face him, eyes staring into hers.

"Kaie, do you love me?"

"What sort of question's that?" Kaie asked, looking a little uncomfortable. "You know I do, Da."

"And do you trust me?" Madanach asked, stroking her cheek. Kaie hesitated but eventually she nodded.

"And will you follow my lead?" Madanach asked, knowing what the answer would be but still feeling a little nervous. Longer pause this time but Kaie did eventually relent.

"To the Void itself," Kaie said quietly. "Da, what is this about? Why are we sparing my mother's murderer?"

"You should know, you had the same reports I did, you brought me most of them," Madanach said, amused. "Our little dragonslayer's a woman of some importance, and the local Jarl doesn't even know she's here. Thonar threw her in here to get her out of the way, hoping we'd deal with her for him. Only he miscalculated. He's been thinking of us as beasts for so long, he thought he was throwing her to a bear pit. Except he has thrown her into an eagle's nest, and we shall teach her how to fly."

Kaie stared at him before her gaze slowly shifted to the sleeping Nord.

"Who is she," she whispered. "Who've you got there?"

"Jarl Elisif of Solitude," Madanach whispered, barely able to contain his glee. Every time he thought it, every time it occurred to him he had the damn High Queen in his cell, he could barely hide his mirth. "Dragonborn and the Empire's High Queen."

"No," Kaie breathed, stunned. "But... how? I mean... why? Didn't she have guards? What about those people with her at Karthspire?"

"She was here alone and started poking into Thonar's affairs, trying to root out corruption," Madanach explained, not sure he wanted to admit to Kaie the exact nature of said corruption. He had a feeling she'd not easily forgive him. "That's how. She's led a rather sheltered life up until now, still believes in truth and justice and people being good really."

Kaie had to laugh at that. "And now she's met you. How's that going for her?"

"Not only has she come to no harm and managed to persuade me to protect her, she's also persuaded me to not take revenge for Karthspire and to halt our entire attack strategy," Madanach admitted. "I must be getting soft in my old age."

Kaie was looking incredulous by this point. "How in the world – Da, please. Tell me you asked for a price for all that. If you've handed all that over on a plate, I think I may have no option but to do as the Orcs do and stage a takeover." From the disbelief in her eyes, she clearly wasn't entirely joking. It was a good thing Madanach had an answer for her really.

"Don't worry, I'm not such a fool for a pretty face. She's made some promises too. Specifically, a full pardon for us all, Thonar Silver-Blood's death and our land back."

Madanach finally let himself smile properly as he watched Kaie's face run the whole gamut of emotions and then she was hugging him tight.

"You're not serious," she whispered. "By Sithis, you are, aren't you! You – oh my gods!"

"Impressed?" Madanach asked, grinning. Kaie nodded, wiping tears away as she let him go.

"You trust her to keep her word?" she whispered. Madanach just shrugged.

"If there's been no progress after a year, we'll resume fighting. In the mean time it costs us nothing to stay our blades. Let the Nords keep fearing where the axe will fall next. We've got bigger plans, cariad." He smiled, stroking her cheek. "Is this enough for you, daughter? Will you put aside your demand for blood if she can get us our freedom?"

Kaie nodded, eyes shining. "Yes. By the gods, yes, if she can do that... yes, I'd forgive her."

Madanach held his daughter tight, feeling more relieved than he could say about this. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I know it's a lot to ask, but this sort of chance doesn't come along twice."

"I understand," Kaie said softly, looking at Elisif again. Then she turned back to her father, knowing grin in place. "You like her, don't you."

"I won't deny I'm a little fond of her – stop it," Madanach warned her, seeing that look in his daughter's eyes and guessing where her mind was going. "It isn't like that, I keep telling you."

Kaie kept on grinning and let him go, kneeling next to Elisif, actually curious now as she carefully pushed hair away from Elisif's face. Elisif stirred but didn't wake up.

"You're doing this for her as much as us," Kaie said, smirking. "You want to be Reach-King again so you're a worthy consort for her."

"That is not why I want to be King!" Madanach snapped, coming to crouch next to his daughter, still a little nervous about letting Kaie near Elisif unsupervised when Elisif was sleeping and helpless. "But seeing as you're here, you can answer me one question. She is pretty, isn't she? I'm not imagining it, am I?"

Kaie looked over at her father and just shook her head, laughing softly to herself.

"All the things you could ask and that's what you want a second opinion on?" Her expression softened as she squeezed her father's hand. "She's gorgeous, Da. You're going to have to murder all the other suitors to get to her, but you'd enjoy that part."

"Thank the gods, I was beginning to wonder if I'd hallucinated the whole thing," said Madanach. Wouldn't be the first time he'd had a particularly vivid hallucination of a beautiful woman walking in and offering everything he'd ever wanted on a plate... but usually a bottle or two of Skooma needed to be imbibed first, and there were usually a lot less clothes involved. "After the length of time I've been down here, even Borkul's starting to look attractive. Wanted to make sure my standards hadn't slipped."

"If you're secretly hoping the beautiful young High Queen of the Nords is going to marry you, I'd say your standards are as impossibly high as Auntie Keirine always said they were," Kaie laughed, not fazed at all by the the glare Madanach was giving her.

"You and your aunt need to stop talking about my private life," Madanach growled, getting up. "Come on, you should go. We're breaking out tomorrow – well, today now. Tonight. Get some rest because it's a little more complicated than I anticipated. The High Queen had some very nice things with her, or so I heard. Meet up with Argis tomorrow and get hold of it all, then tell him to go home sick. He's going to have a few days at home with the flu. Tell him it's the healthy option, a lot healthier than being in the guards is going to be in the near future."

"Will do, Da," Kaie promised, saluting him with a fist to the chest and slipping off to start making arrangements. Madanach watched her go before turning back to look at Elisif. She really was very pretty. Far too young for him, obviously. All the same, he did feel rather protective of her. Whether it was the Stormcloaks she needed protecting from, the Dark Brotherhood or the dark side of her own mind, he'd do what it took to keep her alive.

* * *

Early morning in Markarth and two figures were slipping into the city, one young woman in studded armour and a man in a jester outfit, the latter drawing more than a few looks from the guards although had they but known it, the former was just as dangerous, more so in some ways.

Hogni was already at his stall as Cicero and Eola made their way over.

"Good morning," Eola drawled, having already told Cicero to shut up and let her do the talking. "We'd like some venison for breakfast please. Oh, and a little local gossip."

"Some choice cuts of venison? Absolutely!" Hogni said, just a little too loudly before lowering his voice and leaning forward. "Eola, what are you even doing here? Do you want to bring the guards' attention down on us?"

"Don't worry," Eola murmured. "Tell me what I'm after and I won't be long. I'm looking for a girl called Maia. Nord, red hair, really pretty, wearing some shiny scaled armour and a glowing sword."

"Oh, her!" Hogni said, shaking his head. "Eola, trust me, you don't want to get involved with that one. Say, wasn't he with her yesterday?"

"Never you mind," Eola said tersely, shooting a glance to where Cicero was humming to himself, twirling on the spot and successfully distracting the guards while Eola chatted to Hogni. Such a good boy. "What happened to her, where'd she go?"

"She happened to other people from the sound of it," Hogni said, remembering Hroki from the Silver-Blood inn telling him the story, pale and horrified as she recounted it. "She killed one of the smelter workers, a young man called Eltrys. We don't even know why. Poor man had his whole life ahead of him, pretty young wife, baby on the way. Terrible thing. We think it might have been jealousy maybe. They'd been seen meeting earlier, we think he'd turned her down perhaps and she couldn't handle it. So they say. Anyway, she's in Cidhna Mine now and you're best off out of it."

Eola felt her world come to a standstill. The hornets' nest had swarmed all right. Cidhna Mine... roughest prison in Skyrim, full of Forsworn men who were sex-starved and hated Nords. While Forsworn culture in general was sexually liberal and celebrated sex and sensuality, and sexual consent and open communication about such things considered cornerstones of How Things Were Done, that didn't mean there weren't exceptions... and Cidhna Mine was not a Forsworn camp. Who knew what being shut away in the dark did to a man – well, look at Cicero.

"Thank you," she whispered faintly, paying Hogni more than the meat was worth and taking a few cuts, before retrieving Cicero and hauling him off to sit on the stairs leading up to the next level, out of sight of the guards.

"It's bad," Eola whispered. "She's in Cidhna Mine. They're saying she killed a man."

Cicero looked at her, stared back, saying nothing for a full half minute before suddenly bursting out laughing.

"Oh but Eola, sweetling, that is ridiculous!" Cicero laughed. "El – Maia isn't a murderer! Maia is a kind woman, a sweet woman! She doesn't even like killing bears! She is not... like us." He lowered his voice on the last two words, sweet little smile on his face but his eyes portended blood.

"Well of course she didn't do it," Eola sighed. "Someone framed her, someone who didn't like her poking around."

"Madanach," Cicero said softly, fingering his dagger. "Does sweet Eola want Cicero to sneak into Cidhna Mine, take care of the Forsworn King for her?"

"No!" Eola cried, grabbing Cicero's hand before the dagger could come out. "I mean, no, something more is going on. If Madanach has a secret assassination ring going on, why'd he get her arrested? She's a Nord, there's no reason to keep her alive. Plenty in the Forsworn would happily kill her. Something more is going on, and we need to find out what."

Cicero tilted his head, motioning for her to go on. "Does Eola know how? This is her city, not Cicero's."

"No, not my city," Eola said quietly. "Madanach's and always was. But he had a steward, a right-hand man, taking care of it all for him. A man called Nepos." Eola glanced up to the top tier of the city, home to the wealthiest of the city. How a Reachman had got to be one of them was a question few asked. But Eola knew the name and Eola could guess why he was still so influential.

"Ooh!" Cicero breathed. "You want Cicero to take care of him too?"

"What – no!" Eola sighed. "No, we need to be careful who we stab. The Forsworn have our Dragonborn so we need to rescue her – but no heroics, right? Or careless stabbing. Cicero, I'm – I'm still one of them, even though I ran away years ago. I don't think I'll ever really not be one – I left them, they never left me. Namira help me, I never wanted to do this but... well, Ma's dead at least so I suppose I don't have to worry about that any more. Cicero, I'm sorry, but I think the only way we're getting her back is if... is if we use me as a bargaining chip. I'm sorry, sweetie."

Cicero's face fell, eyes staring helplessly up at her, and this was breaking Eola's heart, it really was, but what choice did she have?

"But Cicero only just found you," he whispered, sounding heartbroken. Eola stroked his cheek, feeling a bit torn up herself. But she wasn't going back as a helpless child any more. This wasn't the end.

"I'll be all right," she told him. "And you and me aren't done yet either, jester boy. We'll see how this goes, but right now I need you to leave the negotiations to me. What I need you doing is making sure there's a Dragonborn left to rescue. Are you able to sneak down there, see if they'll let you visit?"

Cicero scoffed at the mere idea.

"Cicero thinks not. Maia doesn't need a visitor. Maia needs a bodyguard. Maia needs someone to sit next to her and watch over her and ensure no one tries to take liberties. Do not worry. Cicero has survived tough prisons before. Here."

He handed over all his things, saving the Ring of Namira for last, keeping only his motley and his dagger, before leaning down and kissing her full on the lips.

"Negotiate for me as well, pretty Eola," Cicero whispered. "And if it doesn't work, know I'll never forget you."

"Cicero, no," Eola whispered, realising what he was planning. "Don't, please!"

"You have any other ideas?" Cicero breathed. "Cicero left Maia alone in this city and she got herself arrested. Cicero will not leave her alone again."

Eola nodded, giving him one last hug.

"Don't kill Madanach," she whispered. "Kill whoever else you have to, but not him. And if you need to stop him killing you... tell him you know where to find me. You tell him Eola's a friend of yours."

Cicero nodded, but he was looking very suspicious. "He knows you," he said, frowning. "But he has been in prison these past twenty years, you can only have been a child when he saw you last. Why would the King in Rags care for some Forsworn child?"

Eola couldn't even bring herself to look at him, and she should perhaps have told him this before, but damn it, hadn't she spent the last decade trying to forget and move on? A waste of effort in the end. The Reach had a way of calling you back, and how was she supposed to forget the King in Rags in a hurry?

"He cared for his own," she whispered, not meeting Cicero's eyes, the little gasp from him telling her all she needed to know.

"Oh. Ohhh. Oh that... that explains... oh Sithis. Sweet Eola is a Ragged Princess."

Eola nodded, tears prickling at her eyes. Not something it had ever been safe to admit or talk about, and the main reason she'd never really let anyone get close – even a Daedra-worshipping cannibal had some standards and having to lie to a serious lover about who she really was had been a bit too far even for her. But she no longer had a choice, and seriously this Elisif had better be something special for her to go back to a past she'd done her best to forget. It was probably already going to cost her Cicero and she was really starting to like him. She'd miss the little idiot.

So it was that she was surprised to hear him giggling softly, and then the laughter got louder until he was lying on the steps next to her, howling away.

"What?" Eola cried. "Oh gods, what is it with you? It's not funny!"

Cicero dried his eyes, hysterics slowly subsiding.

"Oh sweetling, it is, it is, Cicero is going to have to go to a very tough prison run by the fearsome King in Rags, all the while knowing he has done unmentionable things with the man's daughter." Cicero giggled again, and when Eola looked closer, she realised Cicero was actually shaking despite the giggling. When he put it like that, it was a little bit frightening.

"So don't tell him," she whispered, starting to giggle herself. "Oh honey, I'm sorry, I honestly had no idea you'd end up spending the morning after facing up to my Da. Who – oh gods, yeah, just don't mention me unless you have to. Not until you're out of there and can run."

"That will not help, is he not a terrifying battlemage?" Cicero gasped. "Oh sweetling, Cicero is doomed. But he will think often of you in the Void after Madanach has killed him."

"It won't come to that," Eola told him. "You just find our Maia and keep her safe. Don't worry, I've got contacts. I'll get you both out, I promise."

Cicero leaned forward and kissed her again, and Eola moaned softly at his touch. He really was quite good at that. Eola really hoped this worked because if it didn't, she was frankly stuffed. The world would end and she'd never get to kiss Cicero again. She wasn't sure what bothered her more.

* * *

Kaie was long gone and it must be morning by now – the guards had changed shifts after all, although Madanach was sure they varied the shift patterns sometimes just to confuse the prisoners. Wouldn't surprise him. Damn Nords.

But still, it probably was morning Which meant Elisif might be deigning to get up some time soon, yes? He could have his bed back, right? _Come on, Elisif, I'm old, I need sleep, don't make me wake you up... _The alternative was joining her, and that was just asking for trouble.

Resting his head on the desk maybe. It'd be agony once he woke up, but Restoration magic could fix that, right?

No good, it was no good, he was getting too old to sleep contorted on hard surfaces. He'd have to wake her up.

Then came the shrieking from the main prison, and that had to be pretty damn loud to echo down here. Casting his mage armour, Madanach ran down the tunnel, frost magic ready to go.

"LET POOR CICERO IN! CICERO WANTS TO SEE MAIA!"

That halted Madanach in his tracks. One of Elisif's companions, a little red-haired daedra called Cicero. Oh sweet gods, the little murderer had got himself incarcerated and from the sounds of it, daedra was an apt description. Namely one of Sheogorath's.

"Tough shit. You ain't coming in," Borkul growled. "Boss said he wasn't to be disturbed. Not by you, not by anyone."

"But he has sweet Maiiiaaaa!" Cicero whined. "Maia is Cicero's friend!"

"I said no!" Borkul snarled. "Now get out of my sight, new meat. Go mine up silver like the rest of us."

Heavy sigh. "Cicero is very sorry, dear Borkul. But you have left Cicero little choice."

There followed the sound of something Madanach hadn't heard for some considerable time – the sound of Borkul screaming in pain.

"GAAAAHHHHH! GET OFF ME! MALACATH'S BALLS, YOU LITTLE FETCH- AAAARRRGGGHHH!"

"LET – POOR – CICERO – IN!"

Madanach decided it was time to intervene before Cicero actually killed the man. He flung the door open to be greeted by Borkul staggering around the central fire, trying in vain to dislodge the short Imperial with red hair who was draped around his upper body, looking as if he was actually trying to pull Borkul's head off by the ears. From the very focused look on Cicero's face, he might even manage it.

"ALL RIGHT, THAT IS ENOUGH!" Madanach roared, sending an Ice Spike flying across the room for good measure, narrowly missing Cicero. As the spike splintered into the far wall, Cicero looked up, saw Madanach standing in the doorway glowering at him and promptly let go of Borkul, slithering to the ground and seeming to almost glide over to him, all hostility seemingly forgotten. Instead, he was actually grinning broadly.

"You are Madanach!" he cooed. "The King in Rags! Cicero has heard about _you!_ Cicero has heard that you are deadly and murderous and fearsome! Is it true?"

"If you wish to find out firsthand, by all means keep babbling at me and attacking my people," Madanach growled. "If on the other hand, you had a reason for seeking me out, I suggest you get on with it."

Behind him, Borkul was staggering off, rubbing his neck and groaning. Cicero had left some nasty bruises. If Madanach hadn't already known he was Dark Brotherhood, he'd have suspected it after seeing that.

"Oh, Cicero wasn't looking for you. Well, not specifically. Cicero has a friend here! A dear friend who was wrongfully imprisoned only yesterday. A pretty young lady called Maia. Cicero has looked all over this prison, but not found her. So he asked the others and they said she was with you." Cicero tilted his head, those dark eyes narrowing and Madanach, for the first time in a very long time, began to actually feel nervous. "Cicero hopes Maia has come to no harm down here. That would be most... unfortunate. Cicero would become... angry. Madanach does not wish to see Cicero angry."

Madanach shifted a little uncomfortably as he began to realise Cicero was actually right about that one. He really didn't want to see this one lose his temper.

"She's fine," Madanach said tersely. "Unharmed, quite happy, fast asleep... and if you think I'm letting some random stranger in to see her, you have another think coming. You could be anyone. She has enemies, Cicero. How do I know you're not one of them?" He lowered his voice, leaning a little closer. "They say the Dark Brotherhood are after her. How do I know you're not one of them, hmm? Not many could take on Borkul like you just did."

Cicero opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, clearly a bit torn between two things which were both true and yet in direct conflict. In the end he settled for avoiding the question.

"Oh but of course Cicero is a friend of sweet Maia's!" he trilled, fluttering his eyelashes. "Maia helped poor Cicero, saved his life, and now Cicero helps protect Maia! Madanach need only ask her, she will tell him that!"

"I will be doing that very thing, you can be sure of that," Madanach growled. "But first, I need to be sure I can trust you to behave. You've attacked one of my people already, and someone of your description also savaged a camp of mine not so very long ago."

Cicero's eyes barely flickered. "Did they?" he said, all wide-eyed innocence. "That's _awful!_ How dare some miscreant kill all those poor, innocent Forsworn and that lovely old woman in charge of them? Shameful, sir, quite shameful."

Indeed, although Madanach by this point was thinking the actual concept of shame was entirely foreign to Cicero's mind.

"Quite," said Madanach, repressing a smile. "In fact, when I catch up with that miscreant, he can be very sure he'll need to go quite some way to making it up to me. But I'm sure you'd never do such a terrible thing, would you now, boy?"

Cicero quite vehemently shook his head, protesting that he never would, loyal Cicero was a good boy who loved order. Loyal, eh? Madanach would see about that.

"Clearly someone else thought otherwise," Madanach mused. "You must have done something to end up here. What are you in for, Cicero?" As if he couldn't guess. Cicero giggled, blushing as he bit his thumbnail, looking rather embarrassed.

"Oh well, this is a little awkward," he began, still grinning. "Only... there was a little... misunderstanding. An accident! It wasn't Cicero's fault!"

"I'm sure it wasn't," Madanach said, raising an eyebrow and waiting for the rest – really, this was a little like watching Eithne trying to talk her way out of trouble, although that thought wiped the nascent smile from his face, as thinking of her usually did. "What exactly happened?"

"There was... an altercation," Cicero began. "There were... words. Hostilities! Violence! Coarse language such as made poor Cicero blush to hear."

"That doesn't normally get a man jailed," said Madanach, itching for Cicero to stop dancing about and get to the point. "Did a man die and was your knife the one stuck in his ribs?"

"In the ribs?" Cicero cried, appalled. "_In the ribs?_ Tcha! _Amateurs_ stick a knife in the ribs." Cicero leaned forward, grinning, eyes aglow with professional pride. "Slit his throat and watched him bleed. He won't be calling Cicero an Imperial milk-drinker again."

He'd killed a Nord then, that was something. And now Madanach had to know who it was.

"Who won't?" Madanach asked. Cicero giggled, hands to his face.

"Thongvor Silver-Blood!" Cicero squealed. "He was just standing there, right there in Understone Keep, all on his own... and now he isn't! It's a good thing stone's easy to clean, there was blood _everywhere!_"

Cicero looked delighted with himself, and Madanach was hard-pressed not to punch the air himself. Just one left to go. He could have hugged Cicero for this, but he restrained himself. Wouldn't do to get carried away.

"Well now," Madanach laughed. "That is impressive. You might just fit in around here after all. All right, maybe I can let the Karthspire incident go... perhaps. But you're not getting in to see Maia until I'm convinced I can trust you. That you'll do as you're told."

More protesting and insisting that yes, he would, Cicero was a good boy who lived to serve and would do anything sweet Madanach asked, anything at all.

"Anything?" Madanach asked, guessing that the particular anything he had in mind Cicero would have no problem with whatsoever.

Cicero just leaned closer, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him and a hazy little smile on his face.

"_Anything,_" Cicero gasped breathlessly. Something told Madanach Cicero was no stranger to prison nor was he a stranger to doing whatever he had to in order to survive, up to and including offering sexual services to the prison boss. Most unfortunately for Cicero, Madanach, having now laid eyes on an attractive woman not his own daughter for the first time in years, was no longer desperate enough to avail himself. Instead he just drew his shiv and placed it in Cicero's hand, curling his fingers around it.

"There's a man in these mines, a Nord called Grisvar the Unlucky. He's rightly named, a thief... and a snitch. Feeds information to the Silver-Bloods. He's the only one in here not allied to me... other than you. Change that for me, Cicero."

"You want me to convert him?" Cicero asked, puzzled... and then the penny dropped and he squeaked.

"Serve him like you did Thongvor, and you're in with the Forsworn," Madanach murmured, patting Cicero on the shoulder. "And in the mean time, I'm going to go wake Maia and tell her you're here. If she confirms your story, you can see her. After you've proven yourself."

Cicero grinned up at him, and the daedra description had never looked more apt. Definitely a true son of Sithis, this one.

"The Reach-King can _count on it,_" Cicero purred, before skipping off to find Grisvar. As soon as he was gone, Borkul staggered over, still rubbing his neck.

"Are you seriously letting him in?" Borkul demanded. "He's insane."

"Yes," Madanach admitted. "But he is a friend of Maia's, and he is also very willing to get his hands dirty. I can always find a use for that. When he's done, send him in. It's time he and the Admor-Brenhina were reunited."

* * *

Eola watched from the shadows as the guards took Cicero away. Seeing as the Jarl had seen everything and Cicero gleefully pleaded guilty, going so far as to ask for fifty seven other offences to be taken into consideration, there'd been very little debate. Igmund had ordered him slung into Cidhna Mine for life, for the good of everyone. Eola had closed her eyes, silently wiping away the tears as they'd hauled him off, the cackling echoing around the Dwemer halls. The Forsworn had more cash than anyone suspected, but not nearly enough to pay Cicero's likely bounty after this. If Nepos couldn't or wouldn't help, Cicero was doomed. She just hoped her father treated him well.

She followed from a distance until they dragged him into the mine entrance, watching as Cicero lost his freedom... and then he was gone, and it was time to hand over her own. Taking a deep breath, she went to track down Nepos.

She'd packed all her things before leaving Reachcliff, and she'd brought them along still. Not a lot, just her studded armour, a few bits of jewellery, a little gold, her sword and hunting bow, some potions, Cicero's weapons now as well... and her old Forsworn armour. Enchanted, like all Madanach's family had. Perfect gear for a Forsworn nightblade. Not that she'd ever actually officially served as one – she'd run away first. But she had the armour still. She'd already pulled on the boots and gloves. Clutching the headdress in her hands, she slipped into Nepos' house, putting it on once inside.

The house was quiet, a few soft sounds of daily living, someone sweeping, someone else chopping food up from the sound of it, a fire crackling away, rustling of pages as someone read. Eola moved quietly up the entrance hall, to where a woman with silver hair and yellow eyes was sweeping. She crept closer... and the woman cast a spell before turning to look right at her.

"Name and business, newcomer," she snapped. "And don't sneak. Thieves sneak. Assassins sneak. Guests do not."

"But nightblades do," Eola said quietly, standing up and stepping into the light. "Where is Nepos. I need to speak with him."

The woman narrowed her eyes, reaching for her dagger, and her left hand was held ready to cast. "No ordinary warrior would come here and I don't know your face. Who are you, to interrupt the old man's rest."

"No ordinary warrior," Eola purred, smiling sweetly at her. She'd taken down lone Forsworn in the hills before now. Tasting the flesh of her own kind, now that was always something... special. Something a little extra forbidden about it. This woman would be a joy to taste, Eola could tell that.

But not today. From further in, a man's voice called out and although she'd never met him, he sounded familiar.

"Let her in, Uaile. I'll speak with her."

"But sir," Uaile protested, clearly concerned by this. "You don't know who she is."

"Then let's find out," Nepos said, sitting up and turning to look at Eola. As she stepped into the light, she was gratified to see his eyes widening. They'd always told her she looked more like her father. They'd also said she looked like her oldest sister Eithne, although she'd left home when Eola was five and died not long after – Eola barely remembered her face. She just remembered a fearless warrior to be who'd always told her to hang in there, she wouldn't be little forever. Eola missed her.

Nepos had known Madanach and Eithne both, and she could tell he was wondering who she was exactly, even though the list of possibilities wasn't high.

"Know who I am yet?" Eola said softly, approaching and hoping the headdress didn't do too good a job of making her look like every other Forsworn. So she pulled the thing off and let her hair fall down, irritably patting it back into place as she did. She looked up to see Nepos staring at her, shocked... but also proud.

"That's exactly what your father used to do when he took his off. He always hated wearing the things too," Nepos said softly. "Welcome back, Rhan-Brenyeen."

Eola nodded, taking a seat next to him, trying to ignore the shocked whispers among the various young Forsworn hanging around the place. Even Uaile had sat down, stunned.

"You remember me," Eola said softly. "Did we ever meet? I know I never went to Markarth as a kid."

"Not that you'd remember, you were just a baby. You were born in this city, you know," said Nepos, his voice barely above a whisper but in the silence, it couldn't help but carry. "But your father used to mention you – and when you ran away, he cancelled all Forsworn military activity in the entire Reach, had everyone out looking. Had undercover agents scouting the borders, visiting the cities – Whiterun, Solitude, even Falkreath."

She'd suspected as much. It was why she'd gone off-road, not stopped until she'd reached Pale Pass then sneaked over into Cyrodiil and freedom. Nine years ago, and times had been more innocent – she'd never have managed it these days.

"I'm sorry," said Eola, the unfamiliar feeling of guilt stabbing at her. Her mother she'd not cared about at all by the end, and she'd been just glad to get away from Kaie's nagging. But her father... he'd been away so long he'd barely seemed real any more. But he was real, alive and he must have been so afraid he'd lost her.

"So you should be, he was worried sick," Nepos said, a touch of reproval appearing. "And who has to deal with it when the king is worried? Me, of course. Honestly, it's like having a particularly demanding spouse sometimes. I'm beginning to see why Mireen left him."

"Oh, I rather think it was a mutual thing," said Eola, realising she'd missed this. Missed having someone to talk to, someone who understood. Someone who knew traditional Reach culture, knew the war that had twisted all their lives... knew her own shattered family and its secrets. She'd always told the faithful that true fellowship was found only with those who accepted you for what you are. But to do that, they first had to know what you were, and Eola's story was known to very few.

"True enough," Nepos laughed. "So, Brenyeenma, why now? We've had a lot of interesting developments over the last week. I refuse to believe your return is coincidence, although I'm sure your father will welcome the news."

Eola was sure he would, but the thought of possibly seeing him again – what if prison had changed him, as the years had changed her? What if he wasn't the fierce warrior she remembered any more, but a tired and weak old man? What if he disapproved of the witch she'd become? What if she reminded him of her mother? What if... oh but she couldn't think of all this. She had a job to do.

"I need help, Nepos," Eola sighed. "I've found some new friends lately, including one very dear to my heart. Only they came here and one of them got involved in the little assassination ring you and Da have got going on. Lady called Maia. Ended up in Cidhna Mine. I imagine you've heard of her."

Nepos' eyes had narrowed, and now he was watching her very carefully.

"I know of her. Eola... you know she's a Nord. Why are you befriending Nords?"

"That's none of your concern," said Eola, bristling. Here it came, the judgement. The questions. Wanting to know why she wasn't a true Forsworn. The reason she'd run away in the first place. "But she's my friend and I want her out of that mine. Her and another man who was arrested this morning. He's called Cicero."

Nepos' eyebrows did raise at that. "Now that's a name I know from more than one source. There's rumours he laid waste to Karthspire, you know. Eola, your mother... I'm afraid she's..."

"I know," said Eola, not wanting to have to fake a grief she surely didn't feel. "And Kaie, did she die too?"

"No," Nepos said, and Eola hadn't expected to feel the level of relief she did on learning her bossy, self-satisfied older sister wasn't dead yet. "No, in fact she's -"

"_Eola?_"

Eola's relief shrivelled and died as she realised Kaie was not only not dead, but right here. Forcing a smile, she got up to see her sister staring at her from across the room, wearing a set of leather armour rather than Forsworn, but the dark silver-grey hair shaved in a mohawk with one braid trailing down her cheek that was like their mother's had been once, the piercing silver-blue eyes that were their father's, and the cheekbones they shared hadn't changed a bit. Kaie was a bit older but still very much Kaie the Reach-Princess.

"Kaie," Eola said, determined not to lose her temper or be baited into an argument. "Good to see you."

Kaie was shaking her head in the firelight and all over the room, Forsworn were slinking off, possibly to give them privacy, possibly to take cover, Eola wasn't sure.

"After nine years, is that all you can say?" Kaie whispered, sounding like she was about to cry. "Eola, _where have you been?_"

Did it matter? "Here, there, everywhere," Eola sighed. "Travelling. Cyrodiil, Morrowind, High Rock, anywhere in Tamriel that wasn't the damn Reach!"

Pain in Kaie's eyes as she made her way over.

"You stupid woman," Kaie whispered. "I thought you were dead!" Before Eola could apologise for disappointing her yet again, Kaie had flung her arms around her, hugging her half to death.

"You came back," Kaie wept softly, and now Eola had no idea how to react, other than hug her sister back. Of all the reactions, she'd never expected that. Kaie had missed her?

"You're alive, thank Anu, you're alive," Kaie was saying. "Look at you, you're a warrior still, we can fight Nords together, you were always the best of us. It'll be like it should have been, we'll be a family again!"

"Kaie!" Eola gasped, trying to extricate herself from her sister's grip, feeling increasingly awkward. Namira, no, this wasn't why she'd come back!

"Kaie," Nepos interrupted, his voice carrying over everything, with a quietly authoritative ring to it that had Kaie letting her go and listening. "Perhaps you should hear Eola out before you start recruiting her into the Forsworn?"

"Recruit?" Kaie laughed. "Don't be silly, Nepos, Eola's one of us and always was, isn't that right, Eola? Eola?"

"I didn't come back to join up, Kaie," Eola said, hating the way Kaie's face fell as she said the words. "I need help. Two friends of mine just got arrested and one of them's not even guilty. They're called Maia and Cicero and I need you and Nepos to help rescue them..."

Kaie's face had shut up entirely, her eyes narrowing as she glared at her.

"Maia. And Cicero." Kaie's eyes glimmered in the firelight, just like their father's but without the warmth he'd always had for them both. She was looking at Eola like Madanach had probably looked at his enemies. "The same Maia and Cicero who just wrecked Karthspire. Friends. Of yours. Eola, you... tell me you weren't involved in that."

"I swear it, Kaie, I didn't know until after that had all gone down," Eola pleaded. "Didn't even meet them until it had already happened. Please, Kaie, they're not enemies, at least they don't have to be. Please help?"

Kaie was staring at her bitterly, and Eola felt her hear sink as she realised what little leverage she had left was evaporating like the morning dew. Kaie was Forsworn to the core and not the forgiving type. Just like their mother then.

"You sound so like Da sometimes," Kaie said quietly, shaking her head. "I swear you're both crazy. You're in luck anyway. Da's already spoken with Maia and pardoned her for Karthspire, in return for... well, I'll tell you later. So you're involved too, eh? I imagine that'll please Da at any rate. He missed you, gwaneth bach. You broke his heart when you left."

"Likewise," was all Eola felt like saying to that. Not like she'd not screamed and bawled her eyes out when they'd told her her oldest sister was dead and her father never coming home. Kaie just snorted.

"Well, you're going to get to see him yourself in a few hours. We're jailbreaking him tonight, him and everyone in that prison, including your friends. Everything's good to go, we just need to retrieve your Maia's things from the guards. We've got a man in there to help, but it might involve slitting a few throats. You in?"

Eola could barely believe her ears. Madanach and Elisif had met and not only had Elisif not been harmed, they'd worked out a deal? A deal involving a jailbreak, and from the smirk on Kaie's face and the way Nepos was grinning as he stared into the fire, this had clearly been in the works for months. Her father was finally cutting loose, and it seemed like he was bringing the Dragonborn with him.

"I'm in," Eola whispered, ready to cry. Not only was she getting Cicero back and the Dragonborn released... she was getting her father back too. She had a family again. She just hoped he wasn't horribly disappointed in her.

* * *

A/N: Readers of N&J and Cicero Dragonborn will have seen that Eola reveal coming a mile off, everyone else, I hope it's not too farfetched. And yes, Madanach does indeed secretly fancy Elisif, and who can blame him? Next chapter, everything comes together as Lots of People Escape Cidhna Mine.


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